


A Question of Pack

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Feels, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Meddling, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Mom Stiles, Violence, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows he isn't pack.</p>
<p>But why do the Betas keep coming to him for advice and comfort?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Pack

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first Sterek RP that impalagirl and I have done. :D Enjoy!

Scott worried his lower lip while he waited for Stiles to pick up. As soon as he heard Stiles's distracted "Hello?" he started talking. "Hey, dude, I'm sorry, Derek's got me and Jackson training with Isaac—y'know, from lacrosse? Apparently Derek bit him, which is bullshit, he should discuss these things with his pack. Anyway, I'm gonna have to cancel our game date."

Stiles shook his head, rolling his eyes, and then he remembered that Scott couldn't see him so he sighed dramatically for further effect. It wasn't like he was surprised, all of his plans with Scott seemed to get cancelled in favor of pack business these days, but now it seemed like Derek was just screwing with him. Not that Derek could have possibly known that turning Isaac would directly mess up Stiles's plans, but he could still bitch about it if he wanted to.

"Yeah, no, it's cool," Stiles said, his voice flat and toneless because it absolutely was not cool. He leaned back in his desk chair and stretched out a foot so that he could swivel it from side to side in a slow, listless rhythm. Thank God for spinny desk chairs. "I have a better offer, anyway. My dad's gonna take me out in his cruiser and we're gonna catch a serial killer, so." It was a blatant lie, but hopefully Scott wouldn't call him on it. Scott was a good friend. Unlike Derek.

Scott still felt guilty, but at least Stiles wouldn't be bored. Shit tended to happen when Stiles got bored. "That's awesome, man," he said, smiling slightly. "Great, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles drawled, once again raising his eyes to the ceiling. "Have fun sniffing Isaac's ass, _dawg_." Pleased with himself, he hung up and threw his phone onto his desk. His despondent staring contest with the ceiling continued for almost a full thirty seconds before he jumped up and bounded down the stairs, locating his father in the living room and flopping onto the couch. "It's your lucky night. I'm letting you order pizza."

John looked at Stiles questioningly. "Isn't Scott coming over?" he asked. Until recently, Friday nights had always been 'S-squared Bro Time.' But lately, Scott seemed to cancel more often than not.

Stiles shrugged. "Nah, he decided to stay home and mope about how Allison dumped him 'cause he's a whiny little bitch," he answered, allowing how bitter he felt to color his voice for only a moment before pasting a bright smile onto his face. "Which works out well for you, because I already ordered the pizza. But I was planning on making Scott pay, so... thanks for the pizza, Dad!"

John rolled his eyes, but he was still worried—it wasn't like Scott to mope by himself. "Well, I hope he moves on soon," he said, getting to his feet as the doorbell rang.

Stiles' face fell as he watched his dad leave the room, his mouth twisting down at the corners. He hated lying about this stuff, especially to his dad, but what else was he supposed to do? That was the only thing the pack trusted him with: keeping their secret.

***

Scott sat next to Isaac as they watched Derek spar with Jackson. "Wish I didn't have to cancel with Stiles," Scott muttered under his breath. "Or that he could at least come here."

Isaac glanced only briefly at Scott before returning his gaze to the demonstration; Derek had shouted at him the last time he'd actually turned his head away. "Why would you want him to come here?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth. "He isn't pack."

Scott frowned. "He's my best friend, and was the closest thing I had to pack before I joined Derek. Stiles doesn't really have any other friends; he's awesome, but because of how spastic and intense he gets, people don't usually like spending a lot of time with him."

Isaac shrugged. "I've never really spoken to him," he admitted. "But he does seem a bit... different. He'd probably be bored out of his mind here, anyway. It's kind of an exclusive, members-only club. It's not like he can join in."

Scott mulled that over for a few minutes, watching as Derek taunted Jackson into a reckless attack that ended with Jackson flung against a wall.

"No," he decided finally, "I don't think he would be. He'd be trying to figure out everything he could about us, about wolves and packs. And he'd be tormenting Derek."

"Really?" Isaac asked, eyebrow raised. "Do they not get on?"

Scott snorted. "You can say that. Derek's threatened to rip his throat out with his teeth, has thrown him up against a door, and has smashed his face into his steering wheel. Stiles doesn't really have a self-preservation instinct."

Isaac raised his other eyebrow, too. "And you want him here _why_?"

Scott shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, he's my best friend, and the past few months, I haven't been able to spend a lot of time with him."

"So you'd rather he be here where Derek can strangle him," Isaac chuckled. "I'm glad I'm not your best friend."

Scott shoved Isaac playfully. "No, dipshit. Stiles can handle himself, and he's not always a provocative little shit. We became best friends in first grade, when my dad left. I didn't have any friends then, and he saw me crying on the swingset one day at recess. He came up and started talking to me, and next thing I know, I've got a best friend."

Isaac hummed thoughtfully. "Decent guy, then?" he guessed. "I didn't think he could be anything other than a hyperactive puppy. Uh, no offence."

"Stiles is the best," Scott said, smiling happily. "He's great at helping people deal with their crap, even if he can't deal with his own. He's a genius, too, even if he acts stupid sometimes."

"Hmm." Isaac filed that away for further consideration, and then jumped about a foot in the air when Derek snarled at them to pay attention. He kept forgetting that werewolves had super hearing.

Scott glared at Derek, who transferred his glare to Scott. "You're next," the Alpha snapped. "On your feet."

The Beta got to his feet, watching Derek warily. Derek smirked. "Maybe you should've been paying attention instead of gossiping. Isaac, don't make his mistake."

***

Over the next week, Stiles didn't see Scott at all except for during school time, and even then he wasn't available as much as he normally was. Derek pulled the whole pack out of classes on Wednesday for some training day, leaving Stiles to flounder alone without the only person in the school who would speak to him. It had been an awkward day, not to mention a lonely one.

Scott didn't cancel again on Friday, but only because they didn't make plans. John was working that night, so Stiles settled in for a night of pajamas and pizza and James Bond movies—but he was pleasantly surprised when the doorbell rang a little before ten. He nearly fell over himself in his haste to reach the front door, and when he threw it open he was already talking. "Sooo I'm guessing you finally realized that hanging out with a bunch of flea-bitten mongrels is just nothing compared to—Isaac?"

Isaac shifted nervously. "Can I come in?" he asked hesitantly. Scott had said that Stiles was an awesome person to go to when you needed a distraction, but that hadn't made Isaac's decision to come any easier.

Stiles stared at Isaac for a good minute, completely dumbstruck, before realizing that he had been asked a question. "Oh! Oh! Uh, okay." He shook his head and stepped back, opening the door a little wider. "Sure, come on in, man. My door's always open to... random dudes who have never spoken to me before. You want some pizza?"

Isaac quirked one side of his mouth uncertainly. "Yeah, that'd be great," he said, following Stiles into the house. He caught sight of the movie paused on the television. "Bond?" he asked curiously.

"Ten points!" Stiles announced happily, collapsing onto the sofa and nudging the box of pizza. "Sit down, man. Doesn't matter what actor is playing him, James Bond is _always_ sexy."

That startled a laugh out of Isaac, and he sat down on the other end of the couch, taking a piece of pizza. "Yeah, he is," Isaac admitted, tentatively settling onto the couch.

Stiles smiled brightly. "So, not that I'm complaining, dude, but to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked. "I mean, unless you really are just here to steal my food and watch my movies."

Isaac shrugged. "I needed a distraction," he said honestly. "Scott said you were good for that."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Oh yeah?" He shook his head. "This isn't, like, a sex thing, is it? 'Cause that won't be what Scott meant. I'm good for playing video games and eating junk food and appreciating sharply-dressed Englishmen, but if that's not the kind of distraction you're looking for then you came to the wrong place, dude."

Isaac laughed again. "No, nothing like that," Isaac reassured the other teenager. "I just need to not think about some things." He tore a bite off of his pizza and swallowed it before asking, "Which one is this one?"

" _Die Another Day_ ," Stiles answered, giving Isaac a searching look even as he reached for the remote. "If you wanna talk about it... But, of course you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have come here asking for a distraction. Right. Sexy Englishmen it is."

Isaac offered Stiles a grateful smile, turning back towards the television. They stayed up and watched several movies, and by the time Isaac was ready to leave, he felt much calmer, almost what he imagined being anchored felt like. "Thanks," he said, standing in the doorway as he shrugged on his coat.

"Don't mention it," Stiles told him, because what else could he say? "It was nice to have some company."

Isaac smiled again, a little wider this time. "Would mind if we did it again?" he asked hopefully. "I mean, Scott's good, but he tends to go on about his own problems, Jackson's a dick, and Derek's..."

"A bastard," Stiles finished for him, and then smiled, remembering the name he'd called Derek way back when they'd first met. "A sour-wolf!" He laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "I get it. Come back anytime, just don't expect the greasy food to become a regular thing. Trying to watch my dad's cholesterol, y'know?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I understand." He smiled at Stiles gratefully. "I'd better get going, Derek's gonna be wondering where I am."

Stiles grimaced in sympathy. "Yeah, maybe you'd better run. Fast." He gave Isaac a wave as he wandered down the driveway before shutting the door with a sigh. Well, this was certainly the weirdest Friday night he'd had for a while.

***

Isaac became a semi-regular visitor after that, even though he never told Stiles the reasons for his visits. It was about a month and a half after that first visit that Isaac had the nightmare. Isaac woke up sweating, heart pounding, and with a scream caught in his throat. He was running off of instinct, still half-trapped in the dream, but instinct didn't tell him to go to his Alpha—instinct told him to find comfort. Isaac only knew one place where he was comfortable, and before he fully realized what he was doing, the Beta was knocking on Stiles's window.

Despite the fact that he'd been seeing a lot more of Isaac lately, Stiles still expected Scott when he stumbled out of bed and pulled the curtains open to berate his guest for knocking so loud. "My father is in bed, you asshole; you're supposed to call first," he hissed, not awake enough to recognize his mistake until after he'd opened the window and let Isaac in. Stiles blinked stupidly, much like he had that first night. "Oh. It's you."

Isaac hesitated before climbing the rest of the way through the window; he currently had one leg over the sill. "I can leave," he offered awkwardly, even though every instinct was telling him to stay.

Stiles took one look at Isaac's face, only half illuminated by moonlight, and knew that he couldn't ask him to do that. "No, no, don't be stupid," he said quickly, backing up towards the desk so he could flick a light on and find a pair of sweatpants to pull on over the boxers he'd been sleeping in. "What is it? Has something happened?"

Isaac shrugged. "Kinda? Nothing with the rest of the pack, I just... had a nightmare. Felt like I couldn't breathe." He moved to perch on the desk chair; he wanted Stiles near, but he didn't actually want physical contact.

"You had a panic attack?" Stiles asked, still hovering uncertainly beside the desk, his face screwed up in confusion. "And you came _here_?" Understanding dawned. "Oh, Scott told you I used to get them, right?" He blew out a breath, passing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you're probably gonna need something to eat. I can go downstairs and grab you something—you want sweet or savory? Personally I'd go for sweet but it's whatever you feel like, I guess."

Scott had actually said no such thing, but Isaac didn't comment on that. "I don't know that it was a panic attack," he said uncertainly, "but it was probably close. And um, sweet, but not too sweet?"

Stiles didn't know the definition of 'too sweet', so he returned to his bedroom a few minutes later with a huge bowl of super fudge brownie ice cream for Isaac and a smaller bowl for himself; he wasn't really supposed to eat late at night. He handed Isaac's bowl over and settled himself cross-legged on the bed, leaving room for the Beta to join him if he wanted. "So, you wanna talk about it?" he asked around a mouthful of brownie.

Isaac took the bowl gratefully, the cold helping to keep him grounded. He ate a few bites before he spoke. "It... was my dad. He was... a dick. An abusive dick." He slowly chewed a piece of brownie before he continued. "He didn't hit me, he'd just... throw things at me. Breakable things. And if they broke, or I got hurt, he'd say it was... it was my fault."

Stiles' mouth fell open and a little ice cream dribbled out. He nearly dropped his bowl in his haste to wipe it up with the back of his hand. "Shit, man, that's awful," he murmured once he'd regained his composure. "That's... Shit. I'm sorry." He took a breath. "Is that why Derek turned you? So you could get out?"

Isaac nodded. "I couldn't tell anyone; they wouldn't believe me. I tried, when I was younger, but he... Well, the charges didn't stick." Isaac idly stirred his ice cream, taking a bite. "That was the first time he locked me in the freezer."

"In the _freezer_?" Stiles repeated, horrified. His own ice cream was now completely forgotten. "My—my dad's the sheriff. He'll believe you; I'll make him believe you."

Isaac shrugged with one shoulder. "Doesn't matter now; I'm stronger than him, faster, and I've got my pack. And you." The last bit was said tentatively; Isaac may have been spending more time with Stiles lately, but that didn't mean they were friends.

Stiles understood Isaac's hesitation, and he made a conscious effort to nod assertively, which probably just made him look stupid. "Yeah, absolutely, man," he agreed firmly. "You've got me, and everyone else. But, dude. You've gotta want him punished for what he did. Unless—You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

Isaac snorted. "Not unless he comes after me," he muttered, stabbing his half-melted ice cream. "I'm not stupid. I want him dead, but I won't attack unprovoked."

Stiles sighed. He didn't agree with it, but he could totally see where Isaac was coming from. "Okay, I won't tell my dad," he promised. "Not unless you change your mind. But I think you should talk to Derek about it. What your dad did was awful, but... becoming a murderer changes you, man. Definitely talk to Derek."

Isaac made a noncommittal noise, finishing his ice cream. "Maybe," he allowed, setting his bowl to the side. "Can I stay the night?"

"Sure," Stiles said, because there was no way he could refuse that face. Isaac had a kicked-puppy look to rival Scott's. "I'll uh, take the floor. Are you sure Derek won't mind?"

Isaac nodded. "Derek won't care, as long as I'm not late to practice," he said nonchalantly. "And you don't have to take the floor; perk of being a werewolf: I won't be as sore as you will in the morning."

Stiles grinned. "Well, okay then. I'll get you a pillow and some blankets. Bathroom's just down the hall if you need it." He disappeared from the room again to grab what he needed from the linen closet, and asked himself how the hell his life had come to this.

***

About a week after that, Derek changed Erica and Boyd. Isaac, Scott, and Jackson had all been informed—thankfully—this time, and given a chance to speak against it. No one did, and so Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd joined the Hale pack.

Boyd had strength, while Erica was a bit more of a strategist. Derek watched them spar with the other Betas, nodding approvingly. "Keep going," he ordered.  "Boyd, you need to learn to defend yourself better. Keep your guard up, even when you attack. Erica, this isn't a game. I know you're excited that you're not epileptic anymore, but you need to learn to control yourself."

Erica laughed, dancing easily out of the way of a particularly wild blow from Boyd before delivering a solid punch to his chest that had him stumbling back a step or two. "Please," she said to Derek, carelessly tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to smile at him. "Who's winning? _Oomph_!" Boyd had charged her, and he now lifted her easily above his head. "Goddamn it, asshole! Put me down!"

Derek shook his head. "That's what I'm talking about. It's great to see your enthusiasm, but you cannot let your guard down. Just because there are no dangers in Beacon Hills for now doesn't mean there won't be in the future," Derek snarled. "My job is to teach you to survive."

Erica let out a breath when Boyd set her back on her feet, and turned to Derek with her hands on her hips. "So teach me," she challenged, eyebrow raised.

Derek lifted one eyebrow. "Challenging the Alpha isn't a smart move," he said slowly, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. The rest of the Betas backed up a few steps instinctively as Derek stepped forward. Within minutes, Derek had Erica pinned, his foot on her shoulder. "You think you're quick? You're not. Not as quick as you need to be. Stop thinking you're invincible, or that you can just run from the danger, because you _can't._ " Derek wrenched her arm around, his face blank as he heard bone snap. "Don't challenge me again."

Erica's scream rent the silence in two, and as soon as Derek let her go, she slumped into the ground, breathing hard. There were tears in her eyes, but she hid them from the rest of the pack by turning away and curling in on herself, her arm cradled limply against her chest.

Derek turned back to the rest of the pack, pointing to Boyd and Jackson. "You two, go," he said shortly, and the Betas, with one last glance at Erica, obeyed.

Scott and Isaac waited until Derek was focused on the other Betas before moving to Erica. Isaac reached for her uninjured side, lightly touching her shoulder. "Erica?"

Scott frowned. "Her arm's not healing," he murmured. "We need to get her actual medical help."

"Where?" Isaac hissed. "We can't take her to the hospital."

Scott thought for a moment. "Stiles. He's good with first aid, and he knows about us."

Isaac glanced over at Derek, but the Alpha was still distracted. Or else he knew, but didn't care. Isaac didn't know which he'd rather have. "All right. Erica, can you stand?"

"Yes," Erica snapped, clinging to the shreds of her bravado, but she whimpered pitifully when the boys helped her up and leaned heavily into Scott. "Did you say we're going to see Stiles?"

Scott supported Erica on one side while Isaac took the other; it was Scott who answered her. "Yeah, he's good with first aid," Scott explained as they walked out of the abandoned train station. "He'll be able to help, at least until that heals."

It took them almost an hour to get to Stiles's house, and even by that time, Erica's arm had barely started to heal. Scott pounded on Stiles's front door, thanking his lucky stars that the Sheriff was gone for the day. "Stiles! Open up!"

This time Stiles actually did fall over himself in his haste to answer the door, but he recovered quickly and even managed to look composed when he yanked the door open. "Where's the fire, bro?" he demanded, torn between amused and annoyed and concerned. Concerned won when he noticed the blonde girl on Scott's arm. She looked like she was in pain. "Who's this?"

"Erica," Scott answered. "Her and Boyd are the newest Betas. Can we come in?"

"Uhh, sure," Stiles answered, belatedly stumbling back and out of the way so the Betas could get inside. "That doesn't explain why she's so beat up, though. Don't werewolves have super fast healing powers? What happened? Is there another Big Bad in town?"

Scott snorted. "No; if it was, she'd have healed by now. Derek broke her arm. You still got that giant-ass first aid kit?"

"Yeah, I've still got—wait." Stiles had been heading upstairs to locate the first aid kit when what Scott had said finally sunk in, and he whipped his head around so fast his neck cracked. " _Derek_ did that? Are you for real? _Why_?"

"Because I challenged him," Erica answered, pushing away from Scott to stand on her own. "I deserved it."

Stiles snorted. "I fucking doubt that. Stay here, I'm gonna find something to strap your arm with. Scott, get everyone a drink or something."

Scott looked at Isaac, who just mouthed 'water', and Erica, who nodded. Scott grabbed glasses from the kitchen, filling them quickly with ice and water and then brought them back. "You didn't deserve the broken arm, but the ass-kicking, yeah," Scott said, teasing Erica lightly.

Erica scowled at Scott. "Whatever. He was being a dick."

"Now that I can believe." Stiles entered the room, beaming, and nudged Scott out of the way so that he could sit next to Erica. "Okay, I'm gonna try not to hurt you; just—"

Erica rolled her eyes. "I'm a werewolf now, Stiles. My pain threshold is way high."

Stiles just looked at her. "Which is why you were so green around the gills when you turned up on my doorstep asking for my help," he said dryly.

"I didn't ask—"

" _Oh my God_ , shut up and let me work my magic!" In a matter of minutes, Stiles had Erica's arm strapped up in a sling, with a smiley face sticker on it because he was a dick. "Good as new. Just, please think twice before you provoke Derek again. The guy's not all there, y'know?"

Scott snorted, and Isaac shifted uncomfortably. "Derek's not that bad," he offered, his voice shy and a bit uncertain. "He's a decent Alpha."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I wouldn't describe him as 'decent.' He _broke Erica's arm_ , for no reason!"

Stiles grinned. "Glad to see you've still got some sense," he told Scott approvingly. "I've said from the very beginning, the guy is dangerous. But I get why you have to be in a pack with him; I just don't get why you have to let him beat the shit out of you."

Scott rolled his eyes. "He's the Alpha," he said, spitting the last word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "He's 'training' us, but it's all learning by doing. He doesn't explain anything."

"Well, I think he's doing it wrong," Stiles announced with an irritated huff. "I think—"

"It doesn't matter what you think," Erica pointed out, soft and apologetic. "You're not pack."

Stiles snapped his mouth shut. She was right.

***

They didn't get back to the train station until after dark, and all Derek did was glance at them. "Let me know if you'll be gone that long again," he said stiffly before disappearing into the room he'd claimed as his.

The next morning at school, Boyd slowly looked up when someone sat across from him at lunch. He was mildly surprised to see that it was Stilinski. "Can I help you?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes," Stiles said blithely, lounging artfully in his chair as though he sat with Boyd every day. "I heard you've joined Derek's fanclub, and I was wondering how that's going for you."

Boyd studied Stiles intently. "It's going well," he said finally. "Why do you care?"

Stiles gave Boyd a pointed look. "Maybe because one of his other fans turned up on my doorstep last night, with a broken arm that wouldn't heal."

Boyd raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Now why would they do that?" he asked casually, spearing a piece of broccoli and dipping it into the cheese. "It would have healed perfectly fine on its own."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure if they tell you that injuries inflicted by an Alpha take a lot longer to heal than normal ones," he said impatiently, "but either way, why is Derek inflicting injuries on his Betas at all? Kind of a dick move, right?"

Boyd shrugged. "He's the Alpha. Erica challenged him; he had to make a point."

"By _breaking her arm_?" Stiles demanded, sitting up straight so that he could lean over the table, into Boyd's face. "That's not right, man."

Boyd's eyes flashed, and he growled under his breath. "It's the way he's training us; you think you could do better, _human_?" he snarled.

"Woah, woah!" Stiles backed off, hands raised, with a nervous giggle. "No need to go all growly-wolf-cub on me, dude. I get it. You: Big Bad Wolf—me: Little Red. Fine, fine. I was just conveying my concern, is all."

Boyd snorted. "Right. Look, we appreciate you helping Erica and Isaac." He was quiet for a moment. "Just don't go near Derek."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Why not?" he asked, because he couldn't help himself, and then immediately backtracked. "I mean, not that I was planning to. He kind of likes beating me up and when that happens I heal even slower than you guys do—not that he's inflicted lasting damage on me. Yet. So, definitely wasn't on my agenda to pay him a visit. But, say I wanted to. Why is that off limits, exactly?"

"He'll feel like you're threatening his position. He can ignore the fact that Isaac goes to you for comfort, not him, and he can ignore Scott and Isaac taking Erica to you for healing, as long as you don't rub it in his face." Boyd got to his feet, picking up his tray and walking away without another word.

Stiles shook his head, bemused, as he watched Boyd walk away. How could him giving Isaac access to his ice cream supply threaten Derek's position in the pack? For once in his life, it felt like everyone but Stiles was high.

***

In the next week, Isaac came back to Stiles's three more times, Erica two, and even Boyd showed up once. None of the Betas had consciously chosen to show up—they just did, seeking comfort when they couldn't get it from their Alpha.

A full week afterwards, Isaac showed up with a broken leg. "Training," he explained, his expression pained. "I was too slow."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Stiles squawked, jumping over the threshold to get an arm around Isaac and support his weight. "Come on, can you make it up the stairs? Dumb question—living room, couch. How the fuck did you even get here?"

"Painfully," Isaac growled, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Came right over—gonna take it a while to heal."

"Dumbass," Stiles muttered affectionately as he helped Isaac into the house. "Luckily for you, I own my very own pair of crutches, because I'm a massive spaz who needs them on a regular basis. Do painkillers work for werewolves?"

Isaac leaned into Stiles's support. "Yeah, I'll just need a lot more than the usual dose."

"Well, overdose all you want, just don't die," Stiles told him, forced cheerfulness in his voice. Goddamn, he was going to kill Derek Hale. 

They made it into the living room with minimal hassle and Stiles didn't comment when Isaac flopped gracelessly onto the couch in favor of running upstairs to get what he needed. In the end, there wasn't much he could do for Isaac's leg, but he let him swallow as much aspirin as he wanted and gave him a pair of crutches the sheriff kept on hand for his spastic son. Once he'd drilled the importance of staying off the leg into Isaac's head, Stiles finally allowed himself to sit down beside his friend.

"I gotta say it, man," he sighed apologetically. "Derek is a fucking asshole. Even putting the moral issues aside, he knows that you guys take longer to heal if an Alpha hurts you. Breaking bits of you is just going to put you out of action for a few days, which makes you utterly useless. No offence."

Isaac shrugged, shifting a bit closer so he and Stiles were bumping shoulders. "Yeah, it doesn't make sense. But I think... He could be a good Alpha. A really good one. He cares about us, he just... has a weird way of showing it. He got burned—almost literally—last time he showed signs of caring for someone."

Stiles sighed. He knew that, of course he did, and he could understand how reluctant Derek must be to show affection as a result, but if he was going to let that keep him from taking care of his pack properly, maybe he shouldn't have started a pack. But then, it wasn't quite that easy, was it? "Boyd said that you guys come to me for comfort," he hedged tentatively. "Like, that you can't get from Derek."

Isaac nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes we need comfort from someone who isn't a fellow Beta. And Derek's not exactly a comforting person." He shifted in place, wanting to move closer but not daring to.

"Yeah, I guess not," Stiles chuckled. "But you guys are always welcome here, for whatever you need. Just be prepared to explain strange injuries to my dad, 'cause he will be here one day and you'll be on your own with that one."

Isaac chuckled. "You could always just tell him, y'know," he suggested.

Stiles scoffed, and gave Isaac his best 'bitch, please' face. "Yeah, right, 'cause that would go down _so_ well," he snorted. "'Hey Dad, I've been lying to you for the past two years—that guy Scott and I accused of murder that one time is actually a werewolf, and so is like half the school by now, Scott included, and sometimes they come over because Derek beat the shit out of them or they need a hug. Is it cool that I run around with supernatural creatures on a daily basis?' Pssht! Yeah, right. If he didn't think I was crazy, he'd never let me leave the house again."

Isaac frowned. "Yeah, I suppose that wouldn't really work well. Still, you're lucky. At least your dad would care."

Stiles bumped their shoulders together, like Isaac had done before. "You have a new family now," he reasoned softly. "You have the pack and—and me. We care about you. And we know your furry little secret; bonus!"

Isaac smiled. "Yeah, it's good to have you guys," he admitted, taking Stiles's initiation of physical contact as an excuse to lean more fully against the other teenager. "I just... the pack feels like it's missing something, sometimes."

Stiles sighed and took the initiative, wrapping an arm around Isaac's shoulders. "Derek'll pull his head out of his ass eventually," he promised, although he sounded about as certain as he felt. "It'll get better."

Isaac nodded, though he could hear the lie in Stiles's heartbeat. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, sighing quietly as he settled against Stiles.

***

Isaac stayed for a few more hours, until Stiles' dad got home and none-too-subtly hinted that it was getting kind of late. Normally Stiles would protest, but it actually suited his interests for Isaac to leave; he had something he needed to do, and he couldn't with the Beta still in his house. After a friendly goodbye and a ridiculously awkward conversation with his father, during which Stiles had to convince him that he and Isaac weren't dating, Stiles headed upstairs and grabbed his phone. He didn't even give Derek a chance to say hello when he picked up. 

"I got something here that I really think we should talk about. Like, now. The window's open."

Derek was slightly surprised to hear from Stiles, but only slightly. His Betas had been going to the human for comfort more and more lately. "I'll be there," he said shortly, hanging up as he started toward the Stilinski household. 

Stiles may have been sprawled in his computer chair and staring at the ceiling, but he was on high alert, tensed and listening for the slightest noise that would give away Derek's arrival—so it was more than a little embarrassing that he only became aware that he was no longer alone when the Alpha in question cleared his throat. Stiles fell off his chair. "Holy shit!" he hissed as he scrambled to his feet. "Are you sure you're not part cat?" Derek was leaning against the wall beside the window, his arms folded, looking decidedly unimpressed. Whatever. Stiles had mad skills and Derek knew it. "I'm sure I've told you to knock."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Considering my Betas visit you more than I do, maybe you should just tell them." He eyed the human suspiciously; what was it about him that made his Betas trust Stilinski more than him at times? "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Yes. Right. I did." Stiles composed himself, finding it surprisingly easy to tap back into the anger he'd felt when Isaac had turned up on his doorstep earlier. He leveled Derek with a hard look. "What the fuck are you thinking, beating your Betas black and blue on a regular basis?"

Derek stared back impassively. "Training them," he said calmly. "They need to learn to defend themselves against creatures much stronger than they are."

"So you break them into little pieces when they don't meet your standards?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Why did you bite Isaac, Derek?"

"He wanted an out," Derek said through gritted teeth. "I told him what he'd be signing up for."

"Signing up for what?" Stiles challenged, fighting to keep his voice down. "More abuse? He told me about his dad, about what he did to him before you gave him the bite. So, yeah, I can see why you did it. Real noble of you, Derek. Take him away from his asshole of a father and give him the security of a pack and an Alpha whose job it is to look out for him and _look after_ him. But Isaac's dad never actually hit him, and he turned up here today with a broken leg. You're _worse than his father_!"

Before Derek realized what he was doing, he had Stiles pinned against the wall, his teeth bared as he got right up in the teenager's face. "Why do you care?" he hissed. "You're not pack. You're not a wolf."

Normally Stiles would deflate and back down and concede his lowly human status, but he couldn't this time; this felt too important, too urgent, and Stiles was furious. "It doesn't matter that I'm not pack!" he insisted, and he knew that Derek would be able to hear the wild hammering of his heart as adrenaline flooded his system. "Isaac is my friend, and you're hurting him! Boyd and Erica, too, and maybe Jackson, I don't know. But even Jackson doesn't deserve that, and I swear to God, Derek, if I find out you've been hurting Scott I'll kill you myself."

"Scott's been doing better than the others," Derek admitted slowly. "But the others need to learn. The only way to do that is through making their own mistakes."

"Fine," Stiles snapped. "Let them make their own mistakes, point out where they went wrong and help them to be better next time. Like a teacher, trainer, whatever, is meant to do. I know you're trying to teach them how to not get mauled by things that want to hurt them, but you're not one of those things. So stop hurting them."

Derek didn't say anything for several moments. "I don't do it on purpose," he said stiffly. "And anything that comes after them will hurt them far worse."

Stiles groaned. He couldn't believe this. "You don't do it on purpose," he parroted snidely. "You can't even control yourself, but you're trying to teach them? Are you hearing yourself right now? No, don't answer that. Of course you're not. You're a fucking idiot." He sighed, irritated, and passed a hand over his face. No way was he going to win this battle with Derek, not yet and certainly not like this. Which was how he arrived at the following conclusion: "I'm coming to any and all future pack meetings."

Derek's response was instantaneous. "No," he snarled. "Pack meetings are for just that—pack. And you aren't." 

"I know that," Stiles bit out, because he did know, and as much as he was happy with his very human status, he was still allowed to be bitter about the isolation that came with it. "But if you keep breaking your Betas, they're gonna keep coming to me to fix them, and more often than not they fuck themselves up even worse on the way here. If I'm at the pack meetings, I can fix them up as and when you hurt them, which means that they'll heal faster. Just think of me as your on-site emergency paramedic."

Derek eyed the human warily, weighing his words carefully. Eventually, he spoke. "I don't want you at pack meetings, but the others would probably be happier if you were there. Just stay out of the way, and stay quiet."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yes sir," he huffed. "No getting in the way of your exclusive wolfy business while hanging out with your exclusive wolfy club. Got it."

Derek just rolled his eyes. "You're only going to be there for the Betas," he reminded Stiles. "I reserve the right to toss you out if you get too annoying." With that, the Alpha vaulted out the window. A while later, he sent Stiles a text: **_Tomorrow, 3:30_**

***

Stiles' attendance at pack meetings became a regular thing, and even Derek was starting to accept that he wasn't going anywhere. It started off how Stiles had said it would, with him on hand to administer first aid whenever Derek got too rough with the Betas, but as the weeks progressed it became more than that. Stiles still didn't interfere with pack business beyond patching up his friends, but he started to stick around after training sessions to just hang out and listen, often with one or more of the Betas sprawling all over him. Isaac was always under one arm, snuggled up close, and more often than not Erica was under the other. Boyd and Scott and even Jackson lately were always close by, if not touching him then within touching distance. It was kind of nice, even though—or perhaps especially because—Derek clearly hated it.

The text messages stopped coming a few weeks in, largely because the meetings always took place at the same time on the same day unless there was an emergency, so when Stiles wandered into the station two months after he and Derek had had their spat, he was surprised to see everyone lounging around, not doing much of anything. Derek was nowhere to be seen. "Hey guys," he greeted cheerfully, even as he continued to look around for the elusive Alpha. "Am I early?"

Isaac shook his head. "It's the anniversary of the fire. Derek's not left his room yet today."

Stiles' eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Oh. Okay." He felt like he should have known that, but there was no way that he could. The only time he'd glimpsed the date was when he'd stolen his dad's file, and that had been over a year ago. "Should I leave?"

Scott shook his head. "He needs his pack—all of it. We're not training today, we're just here for support."

Boyd pointed towards one of the openings in the wall. "He's through there."

Stiles followed Boyd's gaze with his own, perplexed. They thought he should go and see Derek? The Alpha hadn't spoken to anyone today—why would he want to see Stiles, of all people? No matter what Scott said, Stiles was not pack. But he wasn't above poking the angry bear with a stick, with only the best intentions at heart of course, so he shrugged and headed off in the direction Boyd indicated.

Derek had barely moved from his bed all day; no matter what anyone else would have said, he was _not_ sulking. Brooding, maybe, but he figured he was allowed. He glanced up when he heard someone approaching; he growled under his breath when he saw it was Stiles, but it was half-hearted. After spending two months in close proximity to the human, Derek had to admit—to himself—that he was starting to see why the Betas flocked to him after practice. 

"What do you want?"

"To see how you are," Stiles answered honestly, surprising himself. His usual snark wasn't exactly appropriate just now, though. "Isaac said you haven't moved all day."

"I've moved," Derek mumbled petulantly, shrugging one shoulder. "So you can go tell them I'm alive." 

Stiles scoffed. "They know you're still alive, dumbass. They're just worried about you.  We are," he corrected quickly, feeling his cheeks flush. "So are you gonna come talk to us or are you gonna stay there for the rest of the day?"

"'We'?" Derek asked, raising one eyebrow. 

Stiles' flush deepened. "Yes, _we_ ," he insisted, sighing. "Derek, I'm not just here for the rest of the pack. If you want to talk, I'll listen."

Derek was quiet for a moment. Eventually, he shrugged. "What's there to talk about? I got nearly my entire family killed by my psychotic, older hunter 'girlfriend,'" he said quietly, without looking at Stiles. 

"You didn't get them killed," Stiles said softly. "Your psychotic, older hunter girlfriend killed them, but it wasn't your fault."

"I gave her the information she needed!" Derek snapped, his head whipping around so he could glare at Stiles. "I as good as trapped my family in there myself."

"That's not true," Stiles argued, cautiously approaching the bed. "You made a mistake in telling her, sure, but you were in love and you thought you could trust her. How could you have known that she was a hunter? And even if you had, there's no way you could have guessed that she was a crazy bitch who was willing to violate her family's code of honor. You were just a kid, Derek."

Derek rolled his eyes. "A kid who was a born werewolf, and knew the smell of wolfsbane," he pointed out, shifting unconsciously so that there was room for Stiles on the bed. "I knew there were hunters in town, and wolfsbane isn't exactly common. I should have put the pieces together, at least told my family who I was dating." Derek thought it was true what they said; hindsight was 20-20.

Stiles sighed as he sat down on the bed, not touching Derek but close enough that he could if he wanted to. "It doesn't matter that you're a werewolf or that you knew hunters were in town. You were still a kid; you couldn't possibly have predicted what was going to happen. Kate manipulated you specifically so that you couldn't predict it."

Derek grumbled under his breath, shifting closer to Stiles reluctantly. _He_ didn't like going to Stilinski for comfort, but his wolf did; it was swayed by the pack's reaction to the human—he was almost pack, now.

"I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your entire family," Stiles murmured, not looking at Derek and therefore completely missing his inner conflict. "But I know what it's like to feel responsible for the death of a loved one. I know how it weighs on you, every second of every day. And even though I'll never be able to make you believe it, I also know, with total certainty, that what happened wasn't your fault."

"How?" Derek asked bitterly. "How can you know something like that?"

"Because it wasn't mine," Stiles said simply, turning to look Derek in the eyes.

_That_ threw Derek for a loop. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously, absently sidling closer. 

Stiles blew out a shaky breath. "What happened with my mom... it wasn't the same, I'm not trying to compare," he began carefully. "It doesn't even really make sense for me to blame myself, but I do. Every day I wake up hating myself, wishing that it was me instead of her, that I could've done something to save her." His breathing hitched and he closed his eyes, centering himself. "You feel like you played an active role in their deaths—but you didn't. Kate made it so that you had absolutely no choice other than to sit there and watch it happen. Just like I had to." Stiles opened his eyes. "That's how I know."

Derek hesitated, trying to decide what to do next, but after a moment he finally settled on following his instincts—sitting next to Stiles and wrapping one arm around the teenager. Accepting him and offering him comfort as a packmate. 

Stiles leaned into Derek with a grateful sigh, bringing a hand up to rest in the centre of the werewolf's chest. Derek was warm and solid and he smelled amazing; it was all Stiles could do to keep from melting into a puddle of emotionally-exhausted goop. Instead, he accepted the comfort and solidarity for what it was, and tried to give some of it back. If the silence as it enveloped them felt charged somehow, Stiles certainly wasn't going to mention it.

***

After that, while Derek didn't start spending as much time with Stiles as the Betas did, he was noticeably more tolerant of the human than previously. He was still just as quick to snap at Stiles if he started to annoy Derek, but now it was more snarky than angry.

 

Allison cornered Stiles roughly a week after the conversation in the train station. "Why have you been hanging out with Derek?" she hissed. "He's dangerous!"

"No he isn't!" Stiles spat out before he could really think about what he was saying. He deflated a little, having failed to even realize that he'd puffed up. "Okay, that was ridiculous, of course he's dangerous. But not so much that he's likely to actually hurt me. And anyway, I'm hanging out with the rest of the pack, too. Why aren't you warning me that Scott's dangerous?"

Allison flinched at the mention of Scott, but she barreled on regardless. "All werewolves are dangerous," she hissed. "Alphas even more so. Have you forgotten how Derek treated you last year? What he did to his uncle, for _power_? If he thinks he can get more power from it, he'll do the same to you."

"Derek doesn't want anything from me," Stiles insisted, his tone bitter. "I have nothing worth taking. They don't even consider me pack, I'm just there to patch them up when Derek breaks them during training." And to provide the not-so-occasional cuddle, but Allison didn't need to know that; he was already emasculated by the fact that he was being visibly intimidated by a girl in the middle of school.

Allison snorted. "They trust you with that? With healing them? Yeah, that definitely sounds like you're not pack." She sighed. "Stiles, be careful. There's already been enough casualties because of the Hales. Beacon Hills doesn't need another."

Stiles actually choked on his own spit. "Are you shitting me?" he demanded, his heart racing as wind finally refilled his sails. "The incident with the biggest number of casualties in this town involved the Hales, sure, but it was a member your family who was responsible! There's only one Hale left because of your aunt. So maybe I should be careful around you." It was a mean thing to say, but Stiles couldn't help himself. His best friend was still hurting because of this girl, and Derek didn't deserve the things she was saying about him. Or, maybe he did, but Stiles didn't want to hear them.

Allison stared at Stiles, shocked. "I had nothing to do with Aunt Kate!" she protested hotly. "And I'm not a hunter—I'm not dangerous like _he_ is."

"You clearly hate them just as much as Kate did," Stiles argued. "Who's to say you're not just as dangerous as she was? Derek wouldn't hurt anyone without just cause, and he's training the Betas so that they won't either. So stop hassling me about staying safe and go talk to Scott, which I bet is what you really want to do." He smiled after he said that, pleased with himself. 

Allison continued staring at Stiles, dumbfounded. "They're _monsters_ , Stiles. They may look human, but they're not. It's safer to stay away from them." She ignored the bit about Scott; she missed him, but she wasn't going to talk to him anytime soon, not with her dad still waiting for an excuse to put a bullet between his eyes. 

Stiles huffed, impatient, and took a step away from Allison. "Keep telling yourself that," he said coldly. "If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go and find my friends."

Allison huffed, frustrated. "Fine," she muttered. "Don't expect any sympathy from me when you get hurt." With that, she turned and stalked off, intending to find something to take her frustration out on. 

***

Stiles didn't mention his exchange with Allison until the next pack meeting, and only tentatively once Derek had definitely finished speaking. "Umm, so," he began, one hand half-raised in an awkward parody of a classroom situation. "I think maybe Allison's getting a little uptight about the growing werewolf population." He shot Scott a sympathetic look when his friend winced at the mention of her name. "Sorry man, but I had to say something. She cornered me on Tuesday and told me to stay away from the pack, because you're all monsters and one of these days you're going to eat me. She got pretty worked up about it."

Derek frowned, but it was Jackson who spoke up. "Why would she?" he asked. "It's not her problem—her father's, maybe, but not hers."

"I don't know," Stiles answered with a shrug that jostled Isaac. The Beta was almost constantly glued to his side these days. "Sorry, man. But she was all up in my face, warning me that you—" He looked at Derek. "—will kill me as soon as it becomes a beneficial thing to do."

At that, Derek's frown shifted into a full-blown snarl. "You annoy the hell out of me sometimes, but I would never kill you. Not unless you were a threat to the pack."

"That's what I said!" Stiles crowed, triumphant. "But she didn't buy it one bit; she seemed adamant that you're all really dangerous."

"In a way, she's right," Derek allowed. "We aren't human, not entirely. We're as much animal as human, and sometimes the animal wins. We are dangerous, if we can't control ourselves."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You guys can, though," he pointed out. "Full moon notwithstanding. I know I'm safe here."

Isaac smiled, scooting closer to Stiles on one side while Scott did the same on the other side, squishing Stiles between them. "Of course you're safe here," Scott said rolling his eyes. "No way would we let you get hurt."

Stiles grinned and happily accepted the offered werewolf snuggles. "Thanks guys," he said softly, with an extra fond scritch of his nails against Scott's scalp. "She'll come round eventually, buddy. You'll see."

Scott sighed, shrugging. "Yeah. But unless her dad does..."

"Pretty sure she's old enough to do what she wants, dude," Stiles offered. "Once she works out that you're not a threat and that her whole family is nuts, he won't get a say anymore."

Isaac nodded encouragingly, but Scott just shrugged again. "Maybe. Or maybe he'll convince her to join them, become a hunter."

"That won't happen," Stiles said confidently. "I tried to accuse her of being just as crazy as the rest of her family, and she was very insistent about the fact that she isn't a hunter. I don't think she wants anything to do with that particular part of her heritage."

Scott was quiet for a moment, digesting this. Before he could reply, though, Derek spoke up. "I don't trust Argents," he said carefully, "but for what it's worth, Allison's the best of the lot."

Stiles beamed over at Derek, ridiculously pleased. "My God, you are capable of saying nice things!" he laughed. "I think that was his way of giving you his blessing, Scott."

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, but when Scott looked at him, warily hopeful, he nodded. The Beta grinned and whooped happily, jumping up to leap at Derek, pulling his Alpha into a hug. Derek was shocked, but only for a moment; tentatively, he returned the hug, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he did so. 

Stiles' expression softened out of its mocking grin to make way for a tender, vaguely impressed look. Seeing Derek hug Scott back did happy, fluttery things to his insides, even as they churned with jealousy. Stiles would never be a real part of the pack, but maybe Derek could handle this Alpha thing after all.

***

About a week later, the pack took over the Stilinski household. Scott had checked to make sure the Sheriff wouldn't be home for a while, because they weren't planning on leaving anytime soon. Scott brought drinks, Jackson brought money for pizza, and Boyd, Erica, and Isaac brought Derek. 

"Pack night!" Scott announced happily when Stiles opened the door. "You've got the best TV and movie collection, so we're commandeering your house. "

"Uhhhh." Stiles stared stupidly at the group for a long moment, and really, that was becoming quite a habit. A bad one. He pulled himself together. "Okay. Come on in, I guess." He gave Scott a 'what the fuck?' look as the Beta passed him to get into the house, but pasted a stiff smile onto his face for the benefit of everyone else. Derek was the last to approach the door, and when he hesitated, Stiles wondered vaguely if they were sizing each other up. This was the first time the pack as a whole had been on Stiles' territory, after all; maybe this was something to do with the whole threatened-authority thing that Boyd had mentioned. Stiles blew out a breath and did his best to look meek and unthreatening without actually submitting. "So, I'm guessing this wasn't your idea?" he asked awkwardly, not quite meeting Derek's gaze. 

Derek nodded. He felt extremely awkward and out-of-place here, on what was technically Stiles’s territory. "Isaac, Boyd, and Erica teamed up on me, caught me by surprise," he explained.

Stiles shrugged and gestured over Derek's shoulder. "Well, you don't have to be here," he pointed out pleasantly. "You want me to scream at you to get the fuck out of my house and let your Betas have some goddamn space for once?"

Derek hesitated. "They seem like they want me here," he said awkwardly. This was Stiles's house, his domain, territory. If he didn't want Derek here, Derek would go. Derek was curious as to why his pack had dragged him here, though. They weren't acting like there was any danger. Scott had said something about a 'pack night'; perhaps he just meant a night for the pack to spend time together?

Stiles smiled blithely. "Then I guess you'd better come in." He turned and walked into the house, leading Derek down the hall to where the rest of the pack was already gathered in the living room. Erica paused in rifling through the few takeout menus Stiles let his dad keep around to give him a wave.

"Hey. What's your favorite pizza place?" she asked. "Jackson's buying."

Stiles could barely believe his luck. He gave Erica the name of the most expensive pizza place in town.

Jackson rolled his eyes when he heard Stiles's response, but he didn't do anything except fish out his wallet. 

Derek hovered uneasily; he knew Stiles didn't exactly want him here, and what's more, his wolf could feel it as well, and was just as uneasy as he was. Scott finally steered him towards the loveseat. "Sit," he insisted, handing Derek a can of Coke. Derek took it, popping the tab before taking a sip.

Stiles moved over to Erica's side so that they could discuss their order, but he kept an eye on Derek. It was weird, having him here in a social context, and Stiles could tell he was uncomfortable, but he didn't really know how to ease that. He didn't even know if he wanted to ease it. "Yo, Papa Bear," he called, because apparently he had a death wish. "How do you feel about Hawaiian?"

Derek glared at Stiles when he heard the nickname, but shrugged. "Make sure one of the pizzas is a spinach pizza, and I don't care."

Stiles screwed up his face. "Spinach?" he demanded, appalled. "Oh my God, where did you even come from? Where did he come from?"

Erica laughed. "Another planet, for sure."

Derek rolled his eyes. "It's good on pizza," he insisted. "Just order the damn things."

Stiles grabbed the phone and pitched it to Erica so she could make the call, and turned to go sit down. He hesitated awkwardly. Scott, Isaac and Jackson were squashed up on the couch, and Boyd was sitting in the armchair. That left the only remaining seat next to Derek, and there was no way Stiles was taking it. He might get eaten, and besides, Erica had to sit somewhere. Mentally shrugging, Stiles walked over to the couch and began to lower himself to the floor, to sit in front of Scott. 

"What are you doing?" Erica asked mid-order, holding the phone against her shoulder.

"Leaving you a seat," Stiles answered honestly. "I'm cool on the floor, anyway."

Erica rolled her eyes. "Please. You're the host; you can't sit on the floor."

"Well you're a girl, so you can't, either," Stiles argued.

The smirk Erica sent his way was more than a little filthy. "I'm gonna sit with Boyd."

Stiles' gaze went from Erica, to Boyd, to Derek. Boyd practically filled the armchair; if Erica was going to sit with him, she was going to have to get real close. Boyd didn't look like he minded that though; in fact, he looked quite pleased. Stiles sighed and stood back up, flopping onto the loveseat like it wasn't a big deal. 

Erica grinned. "Perfect."

Derek obligingly shifted to make room for Stiles. Scott hid a smirk as he watched the two awkwardly settle next to each other on the loveseat. "All right, let's get started on the movies!" he said, grinning. He held up _Iron Man_ for approval; the only one to disagree was Jackson, who was coincidentally ignored.

The pizza arrived maybe twenty minutes into the movie, and while the whole pack dug in with the enthusiasm that was expected of them, Stiles ended up leaving most of his for later. That meant there was a chance his dad would find the leftovers and eat them himself, but he was far too distracted to eat. For some reason, he was hyper-aware of Derek beside him, of the heat of his body and the way he was sitting so that their thighs were pressed together and the _sound of him chewing_ , for fuck's sake, so he claimed that he wasn't really hungry and set his half-eaten Hawaiian pizza aside in favor of mocking Derek for his spinach monstrosity. "I'm pretty sure this goes against your whole nature," he insisted. "Aren't you supposed to be eating a meatlover with, like, extra blood or something?"

Derek rolled his eyes; that was starting to become his standard response to anything Stiles said. "No. I never did. I just like spinach pizza." He was careful not to touch Stiles anymore than necessary in an effort to prevent the teenager's squirming; it was having an... inappropriate effect on Derek's body.

"Well, you're gross," Stiles said decisively, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt when it seemed like Derek was moving away from him. "And an embarrassment to all werewolves everywhere. _Spinach pizza_. For the love of God."

"And Hawaiian's better?" Derek demanded, looking at Stiles incredulously. "Who the hell even thought of putting _fruit_ on pizza in the first place? At least vegetables make sense."

"Hey!" Stiles cried indignantly. "I'm not claiming that it's logical, but ham and pineapple work together. Hate to break it to you, buddy, but unless your name is Popeye, spinach _never_ makes sense."

"Popeye's my middle name," Derek deadpanned, taking a deliberate bite of pizza while holding Stiles's gaze.

Stiles couldn't help it: he cracked up. "Never change, Derek," he managed to choke out through his laughter. "Jesus Christ."

The rest of the pack were staring at them incredulously as Derek smirked and focused back on the movie and his pizza. "Did Derek just crack a joke?" Scott asked, awed. 

"He did," Isaac confirmed. "He really did."

Everyone settled down after that, content to watch the movie in relative silence. It was comfortable, and Stiles found himself wondering if this was what it felt like, being part of a pack. He had no way of knowing, but he supposed that for tonight, he could let himself pretend. He could also pretend that this stupid awareness of Derek was a result of that, too.

No one noticed that Stiles had fallen asleep until the end of the second _Iron Man_ movie. Isaac got up to change the DVD, and as Erica glanced over, she saw it. Stiles' eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open and his breathing deep and even; his head was resting on Derek's shoulder. "Look how cute they are," Erica whispered, nudging Boyd, upon whose lap she was curled up. "All snuggled together like that. So adorable." Derek didn't look like he was far off sleep himself, but she knew he could hear her. That was part of the fun.

Derek managed to rouse himself enough to shoot a half-hearted glare in Erica's direction, but he started nodding off once again. When they were both asleep, Isaac snickered softly. "Momma and Poppa Wolf," he muttered, still chuckling. Scott joined in, and they both had a harder time keeping themselves quiet when, after the third movie( _Captain America_ , this time), they noticed Derek and Stiles were both lying on the loveseat, Stiles laying on Derek's chest.

Jackson was the only one who didn't join in with the laughter. "They're going to end up boning, aren't they?" he asked, sounding vaguely disgusted. 

Erica snorted. "You only just noticed?"

Jackson glowered at her.

***

The majority of the awkwardness was avoided by virtue of Derek waking up first and ducking out before Stiles woke up. On Monday, Derek was there waiting for everyone. "Training," he said shortly. "Stiles, you take Boyd and Erica. I'll take the others."

"What?" Stiles squeaked, exchanging a horrified look with Scott. "I'm sorry, you want me to _what_?"

Derek fixed Stiles with a firm look. "Jackson's car is in the shop," he said slowly. "You'll drive Erica and Boyd to training."

Stiles blinked. "Uh, okay. Yeah, okay," he stammered. "Let's go, then."

Derek just climbed into the Camaro, waiting until Jackson, Isaac, and Scott had followed before peeling out of the parking lot. 

Boyd exchanged glances with Erica. "Well, let's go."

"So pack night was a blast, huh?" Erica asked when they were on the road, following Derek to wherever he was taking them.

"What?" Stiles asked distractedly. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was good."

Erica smirked. "What was your favorite part?"

Stiles frowned. "Umm, the company?" he hedged. "The movie? I don't know."

"Not the part where you fell asleep on Derek's shoulder and drooled all over him?" Erica suggested innocently.

The car swerved dangerously before Stiles righted it again. "What the fuck?! That didn't happen! Boyd?"

Boyd nodded. "Erica's right. You fell asleep on Derek. To be fair, he fell asleep, too."

For just a second, Stiles let himself feel pleased about that, hope and warmth blooming in his chest—but then he realized what he was doing. Stiles took his hands off the wheel only to slam them back down in frustration. "I hate everything," he spat.

Erica laughed, like the bitch she was.

***

Derek just raised an eyebrow when Stiles and the Betas got out of the car and Stiles still smelled like mortification. "We're doing general training, today," he informed them. "You're going to hunt me down, one by one. Then, we'll move to combat."

Stiles saw this as an opportunity to hide in shame and took a step back toward his jeep. "Cool, I'll just hang out and read until you start pummeling each other," he said, looking to Derek for confirmation.

"Aw, you mean we can't chase him, too?" Jackson asked, smirking. Derek fixed him with a glare. 

"Maybe when you learn to pounce without nearly breaking your target in half, when you actually hit it," he shot back before turning to Stiles. "We'll be back in about an hour or so."

Stiles nodded, and tried not to grin at the fact that Derek had just delivered a totally ruthless smackdown on his behalf. "Sure. Have fun, guys." As soon as everyone left, Stiles dropped his head into his hands, silently despairing. What the fuck was he doing?

Once they were out in the woods, Derek nodded to Erica. "You're first. Jackson, watch her. She's got the same issue with strength, but at least she can aim." Jackson grumbled, but obeyed. 

The wolves spent an hour chasing down Derek and trying to catch him—only Body actually managed to get a hand on Derek without Derek hearing his approach. For a bigger guy, he was surprisingly stealthy. Derek grinned with a hint of fang when they were done. "Now, it's my turn to chase you. First one back to Stiles gets their ass kicked last."

Stiles looked up from his book when he heard the commotion, angry snarls and running footsteps, and saw several werewolves racing towards him. By the time he'd scrambled out of his jeep, Jackson was leaning against the hood and Erica had just reached the passenger door, closely followed by Isaac and Boyd. "Where's the fire?!" Stiles demanded, alarmed, and turned to see Derek approaching at a much slower pace, holding a sheepish-looking Scott by the scruff of the neck. "What the hell is going on?"

"Race," Erica explained with a grin, only slightly out of breath. "Scott got caught."

Stiles gave Scott an unimpressed look. " _Seriously_? That's pathetic, man. You're the oldest!"

"Isaac tripped me!" Scott protested, casting a betrayed look at the other Beta, who just grinned unrepentantly.

"You still got caught, so you fight first," Jackson said, smirking. Scott glared at Jackson, but then Derek was dragging him off a little ways to start the match, calling out tips to Scott every so often. After Scott's fight came Isaac's, then Boyd's, and Boyd managed to grab the collar of Derek's shirt. When Derek pulled away, the fabric ripped, leaving Derek shirtless. The Alpha didn't pay any attention to it, instead snarling and continuing the match. 

Stiles was sitting on the hood of Derek's Camaro, idly petting Isaac's hair and doing absolutely nothing to soothe Scott's ego, when his breath caught in his throat and his tirade of teasing came to an abrupt end. Boyd had thrown the remains of Derek's shirt to the ground and Derek was... _gorgeous_. Of course, it was no secret that Derek was ripped, and Stiles had seen him without a shirt on before, but he'd never taken the opportunity to just _look_ like this. His skin was glistening with a sheen of sweat, and the way his muscles rippled as he countered Boyd's attacks and launched a few of his own was enough to have Stiles' dick twitching in his jeans.

He flinched so hard he head-butted the windshield when a gentle hand cupped his chin and guided his mouth closed. "Careful, Stiles," Erica chortled, thumbing at the corner of his mouth. "You're drooling again."

Stiles flailed dramatically, scrubbing at his face before he realized that Erica was fucking with him. "Oh my God!" he hissed, mortified.

Isaac snickered from his position with his head on Stiles's lap. "Dude, everyone here's got super senses. 'Sides, Derek's not gonna call you on it, and he'll whallop anyone who does. You don't mention shit like that in a pack."

" _Derek knows_?" Stiles whispered frantically, his eyes wide. "Oh my God, of course he does. Oh my _God_! Has he said anything?"

Isaac frowned, sitting up to look at Stiles. "Of course not. I just said that's not something someone brings up. If it was, we'd never let Scott and Jackson live it down whenever Allison and Lydia were around."

Stiles whined, and really, he was spending too much time around these werewolves. "But Jackson and Lydia are dating, and Allison and Scott have that whole UST thing going on—sorry, man." He sent an apologetic look in Scott's direction. "That's not even worth mentioning anymore. It's yesterday's news. Derek's far more likely to have a problem with... y'know."

Isaac scoffed, laying back down. "And you think you're the first person to be attracted to Derek?"

"Not so loud!" Stiles hissed. "Jesus, do you want him to come over here and kick my ass?"

Jackson smirked. "Why would he kick it when he could fuck it, instead?"

" _Jackson!_ " Derek snapped, grabbing the Beta by the arm. "You just volunteered your own ass for a beating." The Alpha dragged Jackson off, ignoring his protests about how he won the race. He also ignored Stiles; something told him the teenager wouldn't exactly welcome any attention at the moment.

Stiles didn't look at Derek, instead keeping his head bowed over Isaac. His cheeks felt like they were on fire and there was no way everyone couldn't hear his heart hammering against his ribs; he wanted to die.

"Sorry," Erica said softly, actually sounding contrite for once in her life. Stiles just sank his fingers deeper into Isaac's hair and didn't say a word.

After Jackson got his ass completely handed to him, Derek set the Betas to sparring against each other, practicing what Derek had just taught them. Derek himself settled on the hood of his car near Stiles. After a few awkward, silence-filled moments, Derek spoke. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Jackson's a dick."

Stiles shrugged, even as his stomach did a terrified swoop. "It's nothing new," he assured Derek nonchalantly. "I'm pretty much used to his dickishness. Umm, I'm sorry you had to listen to all that, though." Yep, Stiles _really_ wanted to die. "It won't happen again."

Derek didn't comment; they both knew full well it would happen again. Jackson wouldn't let it go, even if the other Betas did. Instead, Derek squeezed Stiles's shoulder reassuringly before giving the teenager space by getting off of the car and walking over to supervise the Betas more closely.

***

Derek kept his distance for quite a while after that, and even though he'd never been particularly close to Stiles in the first place, it was still painfully obvious. It was also ridiculously depressing; apparently Derek didn't trust Stiles to act like a mature adult about this. Whatever. Fuck him, and fuck Jackson. The dick hadn't stopped mocking him about his little crush yet. 

The careful avoidance thing Derek had going on fell to pieces the next time Scott called a pack night. Everyone but Jackson, whose only investment in this situation was his own amusement—and at least Stiles understood that; he had no idea what the others' motivation was—teamed up to make sure that Stiles and Derek ended up on the loveseat again. It was awkward as all hell, and Stiles was definitely back to hating everything about his stupid life. "I can sit on the floor," he offered awkwardly, already practically hugging the armrest so as to keep from touching Derek. "I should sit on the floor." He made to get up, ignoring the glare Erica sent in his direction.

Derek rolled his eyes, yanking Stiles back onto the cushion. "Don't be stupid." Yeah, Derek had been avoiding Stiles, but that was only because he knew what it was like to get ridiculed for something you really couldn't help—Derek had grown up with several siblings, both older and younger than him. "Loveseat's more comfortable."

Derek was right, so Stiles couldn't really complain. "I won't fall asleep this time," he offered instead, and turned his attention to whatever movie the gang was putting on first. He didn't keep his promise. Within twenty minutes of the second movie, his head was lolling onto Derek's shoulder once more, his face turned so that it was tucked into the crook of his neck, and worse still, he was actually cuddling Derek's arm.

Jackson looked he was going to comment, so Derek cut him off preemptively with a well-aimed pillow before adjusting himself carefully so Stiles wouldn't wake up with a crick in his neck. Half an hour later, Derek drifted off as well, the weight and heat of Stiles's body a welcome comfort Derek hadn't allowed himself in a long time. 

When Stiles woke up several hours later, he was alone, and he knew exactly what must have happened. He groaned, and grabbed one of the couch pillows to slam it over his face in an attempt to suffocate himself. How goddamn embarrassing. He'd be lucky if Derek ever spoke to him again.  "I hate _everything_."

***

The next night, Stiles didn't wake up alone; Derek was right there with him, the big spoon to Stiles's little one. Derek wasn't sure where exactly they were, but honestly, he didn't care; he had Stiles—a warm, awake, _willing_ Stiles—with him. The Alpha rumbled out a pleased noise, nuzzling the back of Stiles's neck as he let one hand run down Stiles's chest and stomach, skipping over his navel to toy with the edges of what felt like sweatpants material. The teenager let out a small moan, hips rocking, and Derek hid a smirk as he moved tantalizingly slowly to push Stiles's pants and his own down; both of them had gone commando for the night, and the feeling of his cock nestled in the crease of Stiles's ass, the head of his dick catching on Stiles's rim each time the human's hips rocked was enough to have Derek's patience wear thin. He let his hand travel back over Stiles's hip to circle his cock, stroking purposefully. "Like that?" he growled, nipping at the side of Stiles's neck. "Like my hand on you, my cock against your ass? Imagine how much better it would feel if I were actually in you..."

Derek came the moment Stiles did. 

And woke to come-sticky boxers.

***

It all came to a head about a week after that. They'd just returned to the station after training in the woods—'they' being everyone minus Erica, Boyd and Jackson—and Stiles was furious. Derek had been extra hard on the Betas tonight, had almost snapped Erica in two during sparring and had done his wolfy Alpha roar at Scott until he'd been forced, completely against his will, to show his submission. Sure, Scott had been being a dick, but Stiles didn't think he'd deserved to be humiliated in front of the rest of the pack like that.

"Don't just walk away; you know we're not done!" Stiles yelled as he hopped out of his jeep and hurried after Derek, who was already inside. "You can't just throw your weight around whenever you want because things aren't going your way. You're their Alpha! You're not supposed to frighten them!" And Derek had frightened them; Stiles had seen the looks on their faces when Scott had been forced to his knees. 

Derek really didn't want to deal with Stiles tonight—not after the past several dreams he'd had, and not after the way practice had gone. Derek knew Stiles was right; that didn't mean he was going to say so. "You're right," he snapped, whirling to face Stiles. "I'm their Alpha. Not you; you don't know what it's like to be the Alpha, to be responsible for them. They are nowhere near competent enough to even take down an Omega. If frightening them gets them to buckle down, then that's what I have to do."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were taking leadership advice from _Hitler_!" Stiles yelled. "Y'know, he lost the war, buddy!"

Derek moved faster than Stiles could track, slamming the teenager up against the nearest vertical surface and getting right in his face, snarling. "I'm no dictator. I'm trying to keep them _alive_!"

An icy tendril of fear slid down Stiles' spine, but he ignored it. He couldn't back down; Derek couldn't make him submit like he could his Betas. "You won't be able to do anything of the sort," he argued, "if they don't trust you to. And if you keep this up, all they're gonna trust you to do is abuse them."

Derek growled wordlessly, fighting to keep himself from wolfing out—to his wolf, Stiles was challenging him, and the Alpha couldn't have that, even if the human knew better, knew Stiles was just being protective of his friends. "Then what would you suggest?" he bit out. "More pack nights? Showing up with wine and chocolate whenever one of them gets a scratch? _Life isn't like that,_ Stiles. It's not like that for humans, and it's especially not like that for lycans. If they can't take of themselves, they'll die."

"They'll die anyway if you kill them!" Stiles insisted. He could see how close Derek's wolf was to the surface, but he just couldn't stop pushing. "Or if you scare them so much that they leave the pack and become Omegas! Rule with an iron fist, whatever, you know more about this than I do, but even I can see that you're gonna end up driving them away, Derek, and we both know that's the worst thing that could happen!"

Derek didn't think; he was running mostly off of instinct at the moment, and with Stiles so close, his wolf was only giving him two options: Defend his claim to Alpha by ripping the challenger's throat out, or by gaining Stiles's submission. Derek opted for the second one, if in an unconventional way: He kissed Stiles, hard, pinning the teenager to the wall as he ravaged his mouth. 

Stiles wanted to protest, to shove Derek away and indignantly insist that he couldn't be distracted so easily—but this was his first kiss; what was he supposed to do other than sag against the wall and melt into it with a moan? He didn't even participate for a long moment, just stayed there and let Derek take and take and take, but then the part of him that refused to be made anyone's bitch reared its head and Stiles was kissing back, furiously, his woefully human hands with their pathetic, bitten-down nails clawing their way into Derek's hair. He took his cues from the werewolf and gave back exactly what he was getting, taking from Derek what was being taken from him, demanding of Derek what was being demanded of him—refusing, even in this, to give up any common ground.

Derek growled, low in the back of his throat, when Stiles's fingers found their way into his hair. The wolf pressed harder against Stiles, so they were pressed together from chest to groin, Derek sliding one thigh roughly between Stiles's. Fuck, he wanted to know who had taught Stiles to kiss like this—actually, no, he didn't. 

Derek pulled away to nip along Stiles's jaw, burying his face in Stiles's neck and digging his (human) teeth into the tender flesh there. "Fuck," he growled. "Look at you, so fucking desperate for it. Gonna make you scream."

Stiles moaned again, already riding Derek's thigh, but even as he lolled his head to the side to give Derek better access to his throat, he cut his gaze to him, dark and challenging. "Do it," he goaded, breathless but bold. "If you think you can."

Derek snarled, his hands flying down to wrap Stiles's legs around his hips. "Maybe I'll take you right against this wall," he growled, dragging his lips down the side of Stiles's neck, one hand sliding under Stiles's shirt to push it up roughly.

Stiles could absolutely get with that plan, despite the fact that they were well within earshot of his best friend and close second. If they wanted to stick around to hear him losing his virginity, then that was their choice. And yet... "You have lube, right?" he panted, heart beating fast beneath Derek's palm. "'Cause otherwise there will be no _taking_ of any kind."

Derek made a frustrated noise. "Back pocket," he growled. "Lotion." No way was he going to be taking his hands off of Stiles anytime soon.

Stiles slid his hands down Derek's back and into the pockets of his jeans. "Got it," he hissed unnecessarily as he retrieved the lotion. "God, I really want you to fuck me."

"Gonna," Derek promised, yanking Stiles's shirt off. He ran his hands briefly over the newly exposed skin before thumbing the button on Stiles's pants open. "Gonna fuck you so hard everyone'll know."

"Everyone's gonna know anyway," Stiles gasped, wiggling in Derek's hold to help get his pants over his hips. "Whole pack'll be able to smell you on me." And fuck, if that thought didn't go straight to his dick.

Derek got Stiles's jeans off, but just tore the boxer briefs off. "Good," he growled. "Let them know better than to even think about touching you while my scent's all—over—you." The Alpha punctuated each word with a bite to Stiles's chest before lifting one hand. "Lube," he demanded.

Between the growling and the tearing and the biting, Stiles didn't think he'd ever been more turned on. He fumbled with the cap on the lotion a few times before finally managing to squeeze a generous amount onto Derek's fingers.

Derek spread the lube a bit, warming it, before reaching down to spread the excess around Stiles's hole. After a moment, he worked one finger into Stiles's heat, growling quietly at the feeling of the human's hole tightening around his finger. "Fuck, this is going to be good," he muttered.

Stiles could only whimper in reply. So far, this was nothing he hadn't done to himself, but Derek's fingers were thicker than his own, and they seemed to know exactly what they were doing. "God, fuck," Stiles groaned, rocking down against Derek's hand. "More."

Derek didn't bother trying to hide his smirk as he added a second figure. "This good?" he asked innocently. "I don't think you're satisfied. Think you need even more." He added the third finger before Stiles was properly stretched, but he didn't apologize. "Fuck, look at you taking my fingers so good. Gonna take my cock even better."

Stiles cried out, but even though it hurt when Derek's third finger breached him too soon, he kept his hips moving, refusing to show weakness. The mention of Derek's cock, however, had him clenching around the fingers inside of him. "Not yet, not yet," he begged. "It won't fucking fit!"

"Not a complete bastard," Derek snarled, twisting his wrist so the pads of his finger scraped over Stiles's prostate.

Whatever Stiles was going to say in response was lost as his eyes widened in surprise and his mouth dropped open on a breathy moan. "Fuck, _fuck_ ," he gasped, his earlier reservations completely forgotten. "Derek, God, now, please, _now now now_."

"Make up your mind," Derek growled, ignoring Stiles's pleas in favor of ensuring the teenager was properly stretched—he'd meant what he'd said; he wasn't a complete bastard, and he wasn't going to fuck Stiles until he was sure he wouldn't be in any unnecessary pain. 

Once Derek was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and undid the fly on his pants, but didn't bother undressing any further than that; he didn't need to, really. The Alpha hitched Stiles's legs up higher, angling him better so Derek could line up properly. "Ready?" he asked, even as he began pushing in slowly. 

Stiles couldn't have answered if he'd have wanted to; he was far too busy _experiencing_. His head fell forward to rest against Derek's shoulder and he muffled his gasps and whimpers and moans in Derek's shirt. It hurt, being filled like this, but it was a good hurt, aching in all the right places as Derek stretched him wide open around his dick. The Alpha was hot and hard inside, and he felt perfect; even with the pain, Stiles had never been so turned on.

Derek groaned as he finally bottomed out. He paused, waiting for Stiles to adjust a bit before he pulled out and pushed back in, gradually increasing his pace. "Fuck," he growled, unable to articulate anything else.

Stiles was utterly helpless to do anything other than hold on and take it. Derek felt _so fucking good_ , nailing his prostate again and again as he fucked up into Stiles, quickly turning him into a sobbing wreck from sensation overload. Even the pain was pleasurable, and just to prove it Stiles reached between them to grasp his woefully neglected cock. He was so hard it hurt, but that didn't stop him from jerking off in attempted synchronization with Derek's thrusts; when he finally found release, his vision actually whited out. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fucking fuck_ ," Stiles whined when it just didn't end, biting down on Derek's shoulder as he shuddered desperately in his hold.

Derek snarled when he felt Stiles's teeth digging into his shoulder, fucking up into the teenager harder and faster until he finally came, buried inside Stiles, his fingers leaving bruises on Stilinski's hips, his teeth leaving marks on Stiles's shoulder. 

They stayed like that for several moments, catching their breath. Derek waited only long enough to make sure Stiles wouldn't collapse when Derek let him down before pulling out and dropping Stiles's feet to the floor. The human looked absolutely debauched, and Derek felt a flicker of pride, that _he'd_ done that, before guilt and nausea followed for the same reason. "Can you walk?" Derek asked shortly, zipping up before pulling his shirt off to hand to Stiles to use as a cleaning rag. "And drive?"

"What?" Stiles asked, eyes flickering up to Derek's while he gratefully used the shirt to clean up a little. He felt wrecked, and when he pulled his jeans up shaky legs he couldn't quite hide a wince; fuck, he was going to be hurting tomorrow. But for now; "Yeah, I can manage." The words sounded hollow and hurt even to his own ears, and really, Stiles didn't know why he was surprised. Had he really expected Derek to keep him around after, maybe snuggle some? _No_. That wasn't Derek's style; of course it didn't matter that he'd just taken Stiles' virginity _up against a wall_ , and of course Derek wanted him out of the way as quickly as possible. Stiles handed the shirt back and located his own, pulling it on like it didn't hurt his muscles to do so. "I'll... I'll see you around, Derek."

Without waiting for a response, Stiles turned away and limped out of the station, glancing around furtively to see if Isaac and Scott had stayed for the show. On the one hand, he hoped they had, because after all of that he definitely wanted a hug from _someone_ , but on the other, it might be better if they'd left. At least that way he could be alone in his humiliation.

Derek watched Stiles go, wincing as he saw how gingerly the teenager was walking. He didn't say anything, though, didn't call Stiles back, or offer to drive him home. He didn't know why Stiles had let Derek fuck him, but he figured it was just one of those things that had spiraled completely out of their control. 

He just wished that thought didn't make him feel as sick and lonely as it did. 

***

Isaac and Scott had left once they'd realized what was going on, but they were waiting for Stiles in his room. As soon as the human walked in, both wolves converged on him, hustling him through the door and shoving him onto the bed before climbing on top of him. 

"Derek's a dick, and we should rip his off," Scott growled unhappily, trying to cover Derek's scent with his own. Isaac mumbled his agreement from where he had his face buried in Stiles's neck.

Stiles huffed out a wry laugh and tightened his hold on his friends. "I don't think he'd like you saying that," he teased softly. "He might take it as a threat of mutiny and rip all of our throats out." He sighed. "But really, don't hate on Derek for this. He didn't do anything wrong."

"He hurt you," Scott scowled. "That's pretty damn wrong, in my opinion. I don't care if he's my Alpha, you're my best friend." The Beta rubbed his cheek against Stiles's chest, keeping his arms wrapped around his body, trying to comfort the emotional pain even as he drained the physical.

Stiles ran his fingers through Scott's hair, trying to comfort him in return, even as he melted into the mattress. "Pretty sure having my ass cherry popped was gonna hurt no matter what," he muttered. "Things aren't exactly supposed to go up there. It was a heat-of-the-moment thing, no big deal."

Scott just grumbled wordlessly; he wasn't talking about Derek hurting Stiles physically. That had been inevitable, once they'd gotten started. The emotional stuff was what Scott was upset about. Stiles was Scott's pack before he'd joined Derek's, and before that they'd spent almost their entire lives together. Derek could fuck off, for all Scott cared at the moment.

Isaac was the next to speak. "May have been heat-of-the-moment," he murmured, nuzzling Stiles, "but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt in more ways than one."

Stiles blew out a breath. He really didn't want to go there, but he knew they were right. As soon as he let himself think about it, he was going to be devastated. "I'm not hurt," he lied, knowing that they could tell. "Who's hurt? Not me. We fucked, it was great, and Derek sent me on my way after. Nothing hurtful there. Happens every day."

Neither wolf said anything, just pressed themselves closer to their human, offering him comfort.

***

Stiles didn't attend pack meetings for the next three weeks, and the one (and only) time Derek asked about it, Scott and Isaac both looked at him with such loathing that the other Betas stepped back, out of the potential line of fire, and Derek was actually worried for a split second that they were going to attack him. Never let it be said that he couldn't take an obvious hint; he didn't ask about Stiles again. Didn't mean he wasn't a bit worried about the human, but he didn't ask, didn't let his pack know he was worried.

Stiles came back—not willingly, Scott actually dragged him in by the collar of his shirt, and Derek had to stop himself from growling and pulling Scott off of Stiles—almost a month after the last time Derek had seen him. He looked... ragged. Derek saw Erica' surprised look when she caught wind of the guilt and worry that tore through Derek when he thought about how he'd essentially kicked Stiles out, and how he hadn't even really tried to make sure Stiles was okay in the weeks since then.

"Stiles," he said quietly, nodding once before turning back to Boyd and Jackson. "You said you caught the scent of an Omega?"

Jackson nodded. "Didn't smell like he had a pack; it was just the one scent, no underlying ones, like with us. He passed right through our territory, though. Didn't double back or anything, so I think he was just passing through."

Derek thought it over. On the one hand, it was custom for wolves passing through another's territory on foot to stop and at least let the Alpha of that territory know that they were there, if only to avoid a potential attack. On the other, if this was an Omega, especially a newly turned one, or one returning to an old pack, then he or she may not want the attention. "We'll leave it be, for now," he decided. "But keep your guards up."

Stiles was curled up with Scott, watching the proceedings with only mild interest. For all that Scott had forced him to attend the meeting, he understood that Stiles was still good for little other than steeping in his own misery. They'd become a lot more touchy-feely in the past weeks than they'd ever been, and that was saying something. "That's unusual though, right?" he asked quietly, his question pointedly directed at Scott. "An Omega passing through another pack's territory without stopping to say hi? Hope it's not a newbie without a clue. That would be awkward."

Derek let Scott answer. "Yeah, it's unusual. Not unheard of, but it's also really rude. Could be a new wolf, though."

Boyd shrugged. "No way to tell that without seeing the wolf ourselves."

"Well, if it's gone, I have no interest in going to find out," Erica said blandly, without taking her eyes off of Derek. She'd been watching him closely ever since Stiles walked in. "It's not causing us any problems at this point, so can't we just leave it?"

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "Makes more sense than wasting energy hunting the wolf down just to give them a smack on the wrist," he agreed, before tensing and cutting his own gaze to Derek. "But, it's got nothing to do with me."

Derek barely managed to hide his wince at the way Stiles looked at him, like he was afraid Derek was going to snap at him. "No, you're right," he said evenly. "We'll keep an eye out, but we're not going to hunt him down unless he becomes a threat."

Stiles nodded and looked away, pressing closer into Scott. "Awesome," he mumbled. "Here's hoping he stays away."

***

The next day at school during lunch, Lydia approached Scott and Stiles, dragging Allison with her. Scott blinked when she shoved the brunette into a chair across from him before sitting down across from Stiles. "Can we help you?" he asked cautiously, avoiding looking at Allison, who was doing the same to him.

"No, you can't," Lydia said primly. "Because there's nothing left for you to help with. All those creepy things that kept happening last year? I know why." An incredibly smug smile stole over her face. "I know what you are, Scott McCall. Allison told me everything."

Stiles dropped his head into his hands. " _Allison_ ," he whined. "What the fuck?!"

Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder, a surprisingly dismissive gesture. "Oh, don't blame her. It's not her fault she's weak." She fluttered her eyelashes at Allison. "No offence, sweetie."

Allison shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "Sorry. She's scary, and that's coming from someone who watched a wolf tear her aunt's throat out."

Scott glanced at Allison sympathetically before looking back at Lydia. "So, why did you come over here, then?"

"To tell you that I know everything," Lydia answered, as though that was obvious. "And to warn you that your pack will soon be minus a member. I'm gonna kill Jackson."

"What? No, you can't! Dude, Derek will come after you!" Scott yelped. "You can't just _kill_ Jackson! He's pack!" He paused for a moment before adding, "Why do you want to kill him, anyway?"

It wasn't new for Lydia to look at Scott like she thought he was stupid, but just now she was looking at him like she thought he was _really_ stupid, and possibly also mentally deficient. "Because—he didn't—tell me," she enunciated slowly. "How long have we been dating, and he kept something like _that_ from me? He deserves to die."

Stiles put a hand on Scott's arm just as he started to screech about what a bad idea that was again. "Chill, buddy, I don't think she actually plans to murder him." He cut his gaze to Lydia. "Right?"

Lydia pursed her lips. "Of course not. Too messy."

"'Too messy'," Stiles repeated weakly. "Of course." Why did he always choose to crush on psychopaths?\

"I notice you didn't say anything about assassinating him," Scott grumbled. "And he couldn't exactly tell you—not with hunters and everything else that was going on." He couldn't believe he was defending Jackson right now.

"I don't care," Lydia said simply. "He should have trusted me. We almost died together in the school when—who was it?" She glanced at Allison before answering her own question. "Derek's uncle tried to kill us all. He should have trusted me."

"It's not really about that," Stiles offered. "The more people who know, the more people who are in danger."

"Scott told you," Lydia pointed out. 

"But he didn't tell Allison!" Stiles winced. "Sorry."

"Technically I didn't tell him? He's the one who figured it out. Plus this was before I even knew Derek was one," Scott said, still not looking at Allison. It hurt, her being so close but still so out of his reach. 

"And I found out myself as well, and even if I hadn't, my dad would have told me," Allison added. "Plus, you were still pulling your airhead act, Lyd. No offense."

Lydia glared at Allison. "Offence taken," she snipped, before fixing Scott with a hard look. "Whatever. I don't care why you didn't tell me. I'm in on it now, okay? Which means that I come to the pack meetings and I get a say in whatever stupid shit you decide to do."

Scott worried his lower lip. "That's not my call," he said finally. "Derek's the only one who can decide something like that. He's the Alpha."

Lydia shrugged. "Then tell Derek he has an extra member in his pack."

Stiles choked on the water he'd been tentatively sipping. "Jesus, Lyds, he might kill you," he rasped. "I'm not even pack, and I've been going to meetings for months."

The look Lydia gave him made his insides shrivel up and die. "Well you clearly just haven't been asserting your authority. You have to _tell him_ you're pack. I bet he'd respect that."

"I bet he _wouldn't_ ," Stiles squeaked.

"Enough," Scott snapped, laying a hand on Stiles's shoulder. "I'll tell Derek you want in—but I won't vouch for his answer. And Stiles has a point. You can't just go around telling _Derek_ what to do. He's gotten better, at least mostly. But he's still got his days, and he's still far stronger than you could ever hope to be."

"Derek doesn't frighten me," Lydia laughed, but the flicker of fear that passed over her face said otherwise. "But fine, I'll do it your way, just so you don't have a heart attack." She stood up. "Let me know what Derek says. Come on, Allison."

Allison got up, glancing shyly at Scott as she did so. Scott met her gaze and offered her a small smile, which she hesitantly returned before following Lydia. Once the girls were out of earshot, Scott turned to Stiles. "That has to be one of the weirdest experiences we've had yet."

"It even bests the time I sedated you for the full moon and you spent the whole night trying to sniff my—" Stiles cut himself off with a shudder. "No, actually. _Nothing_ will _ever_ be weirder than that. What do you think Derek's gonna do?"

Scott shrugged. "He might let her come to pack meetings. I doubt he'd make her pack, though. Even if she's dating Jackson." Scott didn't mention how he was pretty certain that Derek wouldn't be making _any_ humans pack, not after how he'd fucked it up with Stiles. 

Scott may not have given voice to those thoughts, but Stiles heard them loud and clear anyway. The rest of lunch was spent in relative silence.

***

Much to everyone's surprise, Derek agreed to let Lydia attend pack meetings, on the condition that she laid off Jackson for keeping the werewolf thing a secret. Jackson was the most volatile of them all, and if having Lydia there was going to prove stressful instead of relaxing, he could get reckless. Somehow Stiles didn't think Derek would feel inclined to shove Jackson up against a wall and fuck him to within an inch of his life if he challenged his authority, but he really didn't want to find out, so it was actually Stiles who persuaded Lydia to agree to Derek's terms.

"What is it you do here, anyway?" Lydia asked not long after she'd arrived. 

The Betas were busy watching Derek sparring with Isaac, and Stiles was busy pretending that he wasn't watching, but he pulled his gaze away to look at her. "Umm, mostly I'm here to patch up their injuries," he answered slowly. "If Derek hurts them, it takes them longer to heal than it normally would, so sometimes they need, like, bandages or whatever. Like now." Right on cue, there was a crunch and a cry of pain, and Stiles was on his feet before he'd even finished speaking, rushing to Isaac's side.

Derek was already draining the pain; Isaac had landed wrong and broken his wrist. "Swearing helps," he advised the curly-haired teen, who promptly let loose a string of profanities that would make a sailor proud. "It's his wrist," he told Stiles once the human got to Isaac's side. 

"Thanks," Stiles said absently, already examining Isaac's injury. It rankled, being this close to Derek after what had happened last time, but he was helping Isaac so Stiles couldn't really send him away. Up until recently, Derek wouldn't even be doing this much, and Stiles had to wonder if their argument-turned-brutal-fucking-session hadn't been worthless after all. They worked together until Stiles had Isaac's wrist strapped, and then he sat back, grateful for any distance he could put between himself and the Alpha. Everyone in the room had to be able to hear how fast his heart was beating, including Lydia. "Okay, man, I think you're all set. Just, take a breather for tonight, okay?"

Isaac nodded as Derek helped him to his feet. "Thanks," he said, smiling gratefully at Stiles. Once Isaac was sitting next to Erica, out of earshot of Stiles, the Beta waited until he was sure Derek was distracted with sparring with Boyd before speaking. "Notice anything weird about Momma and Poppa?" he asked casually. 

"They've always been weird," Erica dismissed with a sniff, but then her eyes took on a wicked gleam and she smirked. "But yes, I've noticed. There's something happening between them, isn't there?"

Isaac nodded. "They had sex," he confided, his voice barely audible. "It was Stiles's first time, I think. Derek kicked him out afterward."

Erica's jaw dropped. " _What_?" she hissed, turning to look at Stiles with big, sad eyes. "Oh, my poor baby. How could Derek do that to him? He must be devastated."

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, he is. He won't say anything, but it's pretty obvious. Derek's upset about it, too."

Erica fought down a growl. She didn't care that Derek was her Alpha; no one got to hurt the pack's human like that. Still, she couldn't forget what she'd been feeling from Derek when he was around Stiles lately. "Definitely," she agreed. "But no way is he going to acknowledge that. He's too proud. Does he know it was Stiles' first time?"

Isaac snorted. "I doubt it. From what I gathered from Stiles, it was just a confrontation turned fuck." The Betas were quiet for a moment. "I don't think Stiles is just upset because his first time wasn't special," he admitted quietly. 

Erica sighed. "He's upset because it wasn't special to Derek, right?" she guessed. "He just kicked him out straight after. _Jesus_ , I can't believe that. Derek _knows_ that Stiles has feelings for him."

Isaac worried his lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe not," he said slowly. "He may just think Stiles let Derek fuck him because Stiles is a horny teenager—although Stiles wouldn't throw himself at just anyone. But you and I both know that Derek isn't the smartest werewolf around."

Erica rolled her eyes. "Derek knew Stiles was attracted to him," she clarified, slowly so that Isaac could follow. "And if Derek knows Stiles _at all_ , he would know that where attraction leads, actual feelings are sure to follow. I don't care if he's the stupidest werewolf that ever lived, he shouldn't have done it if he was just going to throw Stiles away after."

Isaac flushed, embarrassed that he hadn't realized that. "Yeah, okay, you've got a point," he admitted. "Derek was an idiot, and Stiles got hurt. So, how are we going to fix it?"

Erica sighed. "Well, first we have to work out how we want to fix it," she said reasonably. "We could try to get them together, but that isn't going to make anyone happy if Derek doesn't want that. All I know is that Derek feels stupidly guilty whenever he looks at Stiles. Which, y'know, he should."

Isaac hummed under his breath. "Why don't we try to figure out what, exactly, they feel for each other?" he suggested. "I can talk to Stiles, you talk to Derek?"

Erica beamed. "Great idea. Go over to Stiles' place after this, and I'll try to get Derek alone. No way is he going to talk to me while the others can hear."

Isaac let out a small chuckle at that. "I'll catch a ride with him and Scott," he decided. "I'm sure you can terrify everyone else into leaving you and Derek alone."

Erica smiled sweetly. "Who, me?"

***

They wrapped things up after Derek had bested every single one of the Betas, resulting in only one other injury, this time to Jackson's elbow. Lydia was not happy, and Jackson had hustled her out of the building before she could try to unleash her fury on Derek. Stiles and Scott were getting ready to follow their lead when Isaac approached, an expression on his face that Stiles couldn't quite put a name to. "Hey," he greeted, smiling. "How's the wrist?"

"Better," Isaac said, offering Stiles a smile. "Hey, can I catch a ride back to your place with you? I'm in the mood for some James Bond." Isaac knew for a fact that Scott couldn't _stand_ James Bond movies—why, he would never understand—so bringing it up was a sure-fire way to get Scott to leave them alone.

Sure enough, Scott pulled a face. "Ugh, if you two are going to moon over him, just drop me off at my place."

Stiles laughed and threw an arm around Scott's shoulders as they walked out to the jeep. "Sure thing, Scotty. I'm suddenly in the mood for some sexy Sean Connery."

They sang the intros to various James Bond theme songs all the way to Scott's place just to piss him off, and then debated what movie to watch the rest of the way home. In the end, they settled on _Goldfinger_ , largely because the female lead was named Pussy Galore and Stiles thought it was hilarious. The sheriff was home, paperwork strewn out all over the kitchen table, but he just smiled and shook his head, told them to have fun as long as they didn't stay up too late. Stiles rolled his eyes—"As if, Dad, we're well-behaved teenagers"—and stole the sheriff’s bag of chips before dragging Isaac into the living room to put the movie on.

Isaac frowned to himself; having the sheriff in the house meant he'd have to be more careful than he'd been planning on. He bided his time until about halfway through the movie before asking, "Do you still think about it?"

"About what?" Stiles asked without taking his eyes off the screen. "Banging Sean Connery? Every day, man."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Yeah, me, too, but he's not the one I'm talking about banging."

Stiles sighed. "Do we really have to talk about that?" he asked. "My dad's right in there, and Sean Connery's right here. There are more interesting things, dude."

"Yes, we do," Isaac said, his voice quiet but firm. "You haven't talked about it since that night."

"For good reason, okay?" Stiles hissed, glancing over his shoulder toward the kitchen. "Look, what's done is done, man. It wasn't the best night of my life but it sure as hell wasn't the worst. What else is there to say?"

"That you wish Derek hadn't kicked you out?" Isaac suggested carefully; he was treading on thin ice here, and he knew it. "That he'd let you stay?"

"Isaac, stop it," Stiles snapped. "It didn't mean anything. It was just a quick fuck, and it was a mistake. Derek has made that perfectly clear. What I wish doesn't matter."

Isaac was quiet for a moment; Stiles's defensiveness had given him his answer. "Derek's an idiot," he offered finally. "But things will straighten themselves out—sort of—sooner or later." _Preferably sooner._

"Whatever," Stiles sighed, turning his attention back to the movie. "Thank you for ruining a perfectly good Sean Connery session."

Isaac only felt a little guilty.

***

"What are you still doing here?" Derek asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed Erica leaning against one of the columns. "Weren't you getting a ride from Boyd?"

Erica shrugged. "I'll walk," she said easily. "I wanted to talk to you, if that's okay."

Derek eyed his Beta cautiously; Erica was hard to read most of the time. Well, almost always. "Sure," he said finally. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Stiles." Erica pushed away from the column and took a few steps toward Derek. "You had sex with him, didn't you? And kicked him out straight after?"

Derek didn't bother asking how she knew; that wasn't the part that mattered, anyway. "Yes, I did," he said, careful to keep his voice even. "It was a heat-of-the-moment thing; I didn't see a reason to keep him around when we were done."

Erica gaped at him. "Apart from maybe his feelings?" she asked incredulously. "Did you not think about those? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you hurt them." Never mind that she was also pretty sure Derek knew that.

"'Feelings'?" Derek echoed, staring at the blonde in front of him. "Stiles doesn't have any feelings for me—not the kind you're thinking of, anyway. He's attracted to me, that's it."

"That's not what I meant," Erica dismissed. "It doesn't matter whether he has feelings for _you_ ; he still has feelings. No one wants to be kicked out of bed, Derek, especially not after their first time."

Derek froze; he'd been Stiles's _first_? "I didn't know," he muttered, frowning and trying to shove back the guilt swamping him. For Christ's sake, he'd taken Stiles's virginity _up against a wall._ In a spontaneous fuck, no less. "Shit," he swore under his breath. "Christ, no wonder he's been avoiding me."

Erica didn't even hesitate; she jumped on the opening Derek had presented her with. "Does it bother you?" she asked casually. "That he's been avoiding you."

"Yes," Derek answered, without hesitating or thinking. When he realized what he'd admitted he almost slapped himself. He didn't even bother trying to lie; Erica would be able to hear it in his heartbeat, anyway. "Yes, it does bother me."

"Why?" Erica pressed, searching Derek's face.

Now Derek hesitated; why did it bother him so much that Stiles was avoiding him? He hadn't given the teenager much thought in recent weeks, not in the way Erica was pressing him to now. "Because... he makes the pack feel whole," he eventually said. "He challenges me, but in a way that makes me want to do better, to be a better Alpha. He takes care of my pack, and he doesn't take any shit from anyone. He's annoying and hyperactive, but in a weirdly adorable way. He's just... He's just _Stiles._ "

Erica hadn't been expecting this level of honesty from Derek—she hadn't even known he was capable of being so honest with _himself_ —but she didn't let her surprise show. "Are you going to tell him that?" she asked instead, even though she already knew the answer.

"No," Derek snapped. "You think he'd even listen to me if I did?" The thought made his chest ache, but Derek ignored it for now; he knew he was telling the truth. There was no way that Stiles would take Derek seriously if he told Stiles all of that. He didn't even know why he'd told Erica. 

Erica was pretty certain that Stiles would listen, but she couldn't officially comment on that until she'd spoken to Isaac. "Fine, be that way," she said with a mysterious smile, patting Derek on the shoulder as she walked past him. "Now, come on. You're giving me a ride home."

***

Isaac and Erica managed to gather the rest of the Betas—plus Lydia and Allison—two days after their conversations with Stiles and Derek. "So, as we all know, Stiles and Derek are pining for each other," Isaac said matter-of-factly. "We've gotten them to admit they like each other to me and Erica, now we need to get them to admit it to each other."

"But how?" Allison asked, hugging herself as though she was cold. She wasn't; she just always did that around Scott. "I mean, I don't know Derek that well, but Stiles won't listen. He'll think we're wrong, or—or screwing with him or something."

Isaac frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, he would," he mused. "And Derek would think we're just trying to meddle—which we are, but he'd think it was for the wrong reasons."

"Derek would have to be the one to tell Stiles, not us," Scott chimed in. "He won't believe it from anyone else."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Like Derek's gonna do that," he snorted. "Especially after what happened in his last relationship." Erica smacked him in the chest, and he smacked her right back. "What? It's true!"

"It's also insensitive," Lydia hissed, completely unfazed by the wolves' squabbling.

Erica agreed. "He's a dumbass, but he's our Alpha. Show him some respect."

"Whatever," Jackson sighed. "The point is that he's got skin thicker than an elephant. He isn't going to bare his soul to _Stiles_."

Boyd cleared his throat purposefully. "He might," he started slowly, "if he thought he was losing Stiles, or almost did."

"What do you mean?" Allison tried to ask, but Lydia held her hand up, effectively silencing her even as she fixed Boyd with a fascinated stare.

"That's _brilliant_ ," she breathed. "But it'd only work if Stiles thought he was in danger, too. We'd have to make it realistic, for both of them."

Erica looked between the two of them, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Crashing through their walls," Boyd said simply. "We put Stiles in a 'dangerous' situation, and Derek 'rescues' him, after he thinks Stiles has almost died."

"And then he confesses his feelings," Scott finished, a look of glee passing over his face. "Stiles would have to at least take him seriously, then."

"Oh my God," Allison sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. "They're going to _kill us_."

"No, they won't," Lydia said confidently. "They'll be too busy fucking each other's brains out."

Scott winced. "I don't need that mental image," he complained. 

"Still, it sounds like a plan that could work, if we pull it off right," Isaac added, shoving Scott playfully. 

Lydia grinned, and for a human it was surprisingly wolfish. "Luckily for you, I have a plan," she told them. "So all you guys have to do is not screw it up."

***

"Stiles! Dude, you need to get here—we caught the scent of that Omega again, and he's headed for the station!" Isaac panted into the phone, feigning exertion as he ran in circles around Scott, who was stifling his laughter. "We're at the station, hurry!"

" _What_? Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Stiles was already halfway down the stairs and he jumped the rest of the way, shoving his phone into his pocket as he pulled his jacket on and grabbed his keys. "Dad, I'm going out!" He ran out of the house without waiting for a response.

It was late and the roads were quiet, so barely he managed to pull up outside the station barely ten minutes later, but by then the place was deserted. Stiles killed the engine and got out of the jeep slowly, ears straining for even the slightest sound. "...Guys?" he whispered as he peered through the gloom, which was ridiculous, because if the Betas could hear him then so could the Omega. "Anyone?"

Scott felt a flash of guilt that he was about to kidnap his best friend—but he firmly reminded himself that this was for Stiles's own good, and Lydia would kill him if he backed out now. 

So the Beta nodded to Isaac, who dropped down behind Stiles and clamped a chloroform-soaked rag (courtesy of Lydia) over Stiles's mouth, his superior strength making the human's struggles ineffective until the drug took hold. Once Stiles was out, Scott quickly yanked a pillowcase over his best friend's head and made sure it was secured before binding his wrists, knees, and ankles. Isaac raised an eyebrow when Scott tied Stiles's knees. "Overkill?"

"Just making sure he won't be able to get loose," Scott replied, shrugging. Isaac nodded, yanking his phone back out. 

"Erica, we've got him."

"Awesome." Erica smiled into the phone. "Everything's ready for you here. You want me to go to Derek now or once you've brought Stiles?"

"Let us get Stiles situated first," Isaac decided. "Then you and I can go."

"Okay," Erica agreed, eyeing the chains she'd rigged up in the abandoned warehouse they'd followed the Omega's admittedly weak scent to. "Hurry up."

It took Scott and Isaac ten minutes to get to the warehouse, and another five to get Stiles situated. Finally, Isaac nodded, satisfied. "All right, let's clear out of here before our scents stick and Stiles wakes up."

***

They found Derek in the parking lot of the local grocery store, because the unsociable bastard preferred late-night shopping. Not that the Betas could complain; his distraction was what had enabled them to carry out their little plan. They parked up and then together Erica and Isaac sprinted across the tarmac towards their Alpha, breathing hard and positively radiating desperation.

"Derek!" Erica panted as they reached him. "Derek, someone's taken Stiles!"

Derek, who'd turned when his Betas' elevated heartbeats and panicked scents had registered, froze at Erica's words. "Stiles?" he demanded, fighting back his own panic. "Who did?"

"Wolves," Isaac said breathlessly. "We tracked them to the abandoned warehouse on the edge of town; that Omega from a while back had been there."

Derek snarled, eyes flashing. "How many others?" he demanded. 

"Not sure," Erica answered, counting on Derek's distraction and her still-racing heart to hide the lie. "Don't think they hurt Stiles; drugged him, it smelled like."

Derek didn't wait to hear anymore, instead wolfing out and tearing away from the parking lot.

***

When Stiles came to, it actually took him a moment to work out what was happening. It was only when he opened his eyes and saw _absolutely nothing_ that he started to freak out, and only when he tried to simultaneously move and scream for help that he realized he was tied up and had a bag over his head. So he'd been kidnapped. Great. 

Some further wriggling told him that he was actually _chained_ to a _wall_ , and for some reason this fact had his breathing coming so fast he was in danger of passing out. Fighting off a panic attack, Stiles tried to rationalize with himself, but it didn't help. Chains meant that he'd been caught by some seriously old school son of a bitch, which meant that he was probably about to be eaten by a huge monster—or worse.

"Hello?!" he yelled, his voice shattering under the stifling weight of his fear. "Is anyone there?! Talk to me, you son of a bitch!" The sound of his own words echoing back to him off the surrounding walls told him something that was decidedly worse than being at the mercy of some horrible, murderous creature.

He was alone.

Derek didn’t know how long it took him to get to the warehouse; all he knew was that Stiles was in danger, and he had to get to him. As he approached, Derek could recognize the other scents of his pack, but there were also strange scents—strange humans and wolves. Logic had no place in the Alpha's mind at the moment, otherwise Derek would have realized the scents were all far too old to pose a threat to anyone. That wasn't what his wolf, fighting its way closer to the surface with each exhale, cared about, though; all it cared about was the fact that Stiles was, presumably, in danger.

He picked up his pace when he heard Stiles's frantic calls, growling as he broke through the old doors. He tracked Stiles by scent, finally managing to locate Stiles in the far corner of the basement, where even his advanced sight could barely make out any details. 

"Stiles," Derek gasped, forcing himself to regain control so he could get the fabric off of Stiles's head. "Hold on, I've got you."

"Derek, Derek, oh my God," Stiles sobbed, not even beginning to calm down until the bag was removed and Derek actually came into view. "Get me out of here, please, get me loose, I don't know what took me but it might come back, we need to go _now_."

"Shh, I've got you," Derek soothed, making quick work of the handcuffs holding Stiles's wrists above his head. He took a moment to praise a God he no longer believed in that the handcuffs weren't wolfsbane-laced. Once the handcuffs were off, Derek simply ran his claws through the rope holding Stiles's knees and ankles together before sweeping the human into his arms. "I've got you, you're safe, not letting you go," Derek murmured, not even aware that he was doing so. 

His prior need to leave pretty much abandoned, Stiles clung to Derek and just shook in his arms for what felt like the longest time. "I was so scared," he admitted breathlessly against Derek's throat. "I didn't think you'd find me. Fuck."

Derek rubbed one thumb soothingly against Stiles's skin where his hand had slipped under the fabric of Stiles's shirt and hoodie. "Of course I'd find you," he scoffed, affecting a tremulous, teasing smile as he scaled the steps two at a time "I'd miss you."

Stiles managed to get out a shaky laugh. "Like hell you'd miss me," he rasped, the adrenaline and fear still in his system making him a lot more honest than he would normally be. "Probably be grateful for all the quiet at the station."

Derek shook his head, frowning. "I mean it," he insisted. "I'd miss you. A lot." Shit, why couldn't he just say it? Wasn't like it would be the first time he'd admitted it out loud.

"Like you missed me the night you kicked me out after you fucked me?" Stiles' jaw dropped, and he immediately started struggling out of Derek's hold. "Shit, shit, Derek, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Fuck, I don't even know why I said that. Just take me home, please."

"Hey, Stiles, easy," Derek said, concerned, but he put Stiles down so that the human didn't hurt himself struggling out of Derek's hold. "I'm not mad, okay? I promise I'm not mad."

Stiles breathed out slowly and met Derek's gaze. "Okay. Okay," he mumbled. "You're not mad and I'm not—anything. Perfect. Let's go, okay?"

Derek shook his head. "No," he said, for emphasis. He'd nearly lost Stiles; that was enough to make him want to have it out. "You're upset, still. Obviously it's not nothing."

"Dude," Stiles hissed, eyes wide. "I'm pretty sure we're in the middle of narrowly escaping being brutally murdered, and you want to talk about this _now_? Your timing is awesome. Jesus Christ."

Derek tapped his ear meaningfully. "I don't hear anything," he told Stiles. Which was suspicious—Derek had just burst into the supposed lair of another pack of wolves. The two of them should be fighting Omegas right now, not discussing their relationship.

"Which is all the more reason to _leave_ before whatever got me comes back," Stiles insisted. Derek wasn't the only one who was questioning how easy this seemed to be, but really, he was prepared to say anything to get out of having this conversation. 

"I'll hear," Derek said confidently. "I think we really need to talk, Stiles."

"About what?!" Stiles demanded. He took a step back, putting some much-needed distance between them, and fixed Derek with a devastated look. "About the fact that you took my goddamn virginity up against a wall and then threw me out straight after? The fact that I don't regret it? The fact that you clearly do? I don't need to hear that, Derek, I already know. So, thank you for coming to save me, but I'd really like to go home now."

"No," Derek said, fighting for calm even as he wanted to deny everything immediately and loudly. "We need to talk about how the only thing I regret is that I didn't know it was your first time, otherwise I wouldn't have treated you like I did. We need to talk about why me fucking you was even an option in the first place."

Stiles shook his head, incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Like I was going to say no! I want you, Derek, every second of every day, you're all I fucking think about and _oh my God_ just tie me back up and leave me to get eaten, except fucking _gag_ me this time."

"No," Derek said again, stepping forward to recover the ground Stiles had gained. "That's not what I meant. What I _meant_ was fucking you was an option because I was—still am—attracted to you."

Stiles staggered back out of sheer instinct, his heart racing as he simultaneously asked himself and refused to even consider whether or not Derek meant that the way it sounded. "Well, if you want another go to get it out of your system," he quipped, all false bravado, "then I'm afraid I can't do that, man. One meaningless fuck from you has fulfilled my lifetime quota, thanks."

Now Derek felt like they were making their way back to familiar ground. "And if I don't want a meaningless fuck?" he challenged, stepping forward again, getting right in Stiles's personal space. "What if I tell you I want every part of you, every day, for as long as you'll have me?"

"Then I'll tell you that you're a cruel bastard," Stiles said matter of factly. "And that you shouldn't fuck with someone who's in love with you." He blinked. "Did I just say that?"

Derek felt his lips stretch into a small smile. "Yes, you did. For the record, I love you, too."

Stiles stared at him. "Did _you_ just say that?" he asked, but took a shaky step towards Derek before he got an answer. "Did you mean it?"

Derek nodded. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

They were practically chest-to-chest now, and it was no trouble at all for Stiles to reach up and wrap his arms around Derek's shoulders. "Fuck," he breathed, and pulled him into a kiss.

Derek let out a soft sigh of relief when Stiles kissed him—he'd been afraid that Stiles wouldn't believe him. Derek's hands came up to frame Stiles's face, angling it just so as Derek kissed Stiles back. It wasn't hard and demanding like their first kiss had been; this one was soft, tentative, exploring.

It took Stiles' breath away. When they finally broke apart, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and shining, and he just looked at Derek for a long moment before his face split into the brightest smile known to man. And then he started laughing. "My dad's gonna fucking kill us."

Derek grimaced. "I sure hope not," he muttered. "I like living."

"Me too," Stiles agreed, still grinning. "So, with that in mind, can we _please_ get out of here now?"

Derek nodded, but as they walked away, it finally registered that the scent of his Betas was far fresher than any other scent. "Those meddling bastards," he swore under his breath.

"What?" Stiles asked, glancing back at Derek. "Who?"

"The Betas," he explained. God, it all made sense now. "They made this all up." And he was going to have _very_ strong words with them.

Stiles went cold all over. " _What_?" he whispered, stricken. "They did this? _Why_?"

Derek growled under his breath. "I... may have told Erica that I was in love with you. They must have decided to do something about it."

"Are you _shitting_ me?!" Stiles shrieked. "I thought I was going to die! I had a panic attack for the first time in _forever_ all in the name of banging our heads together?! I'm going to _kill them_."

"I'll help you," Derek promised. "I can understand them wanting to help, but kidnapping you wasn't the right thing to do." Derek reached over and pulled Stiles into a hug, marveling that he was allowed to do so, now. "They're more like puppies than I thought."

Stiles melted into it gratefully, letting out a shaky breath. "Well, they're officially in the dog hope now," he muttered darkly. "I can't believe them. You have no idea how scared I was, and my _friends_ did that."

Derek made a sympathetic noise, tucking Stiles in closer. "They were trying to help," he admitted, "but the execution was terrible." He pressed a kiss to Stiles's temple, taking a moment to just breathe in Stiles's scent. "We'll go yell at them, make them feel terrible."

Stiles nodded, and pulled away so that he was tucked under Derek's arm instead of wrapped around him. "I like that plan."

***

The rest of the pack was waiting for them in the station; when Derek and Stiles walked in, their arms around each other, everyone had smug smirks on their faces. 

"I don't know what you're all so proud about," Derek snapped, glaring at each Beta—humans included—in turn.

Erica's smile faltered. "What?" she asked, bemused. "Did it not work?"

"It worked," Derek growled, "but you also scared the living hell out of both me and Stiles. I thought you were supposed to be smart," he said, directing his last sentence at Lydia; he knew she had to be the one who came up with the plan; none of the others would have been able to come up with a plan that was as effective without tipping Derek off.

"I never claimed that," Lydia said with a shrug, but Stiles caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes. "And I didn't force them to do anything. They could've come up with their own plan."

Normally, Stiles was the first to try to see things from Lydia's side, but tonight he just couldn't. "How could you think it was a good idea?" he asked, addressing the whole group. "I thought I was done for; I—I thought that was _it_. And I felt bad for you!" He wasn't yelling, but it might have been better if he was; the exhausted, pained rasp of his voice packed an even harder punch. "I know you guys have become, like, attached to me or whatever, and I thought, 'If I die, who's gonna stand up for them? Who's gonna bring Derek back to earth when he gets too caught up in his own head again? Who's gonna be there for Isaac when he has a nightmare, or Scott when he gets sad about Allison, or _any of you_ when you need _anything_?' But it was all fucking pointless, wasn't it? 'Cause you don't care about me. If you did, you _wouldn't_ have done this."

Allison, who had flinched when Stiles mentioned Scott in his little tirade, was the first to break the silence that reigned for several long minutes after that. She stood up and walked over, her hands held out imploringly. "Stiles..." she whispered. "We're _sorry_."

Stiles just turned away, and hid his face in Derek's shoulder.

Derek's arm tightened around Stiles, and while he didn't glare at Allison, he did stare at her meaningfully until she sat back down. "You all should have thought this through better," he said firmly. "I understand you thought you were doing the right thing, but the fact remains that Stiles and I seriously thought he was in danger."

"That was kind of the point," Scott muttered, shifting uneasily. 

"Excuse me?"

"If you didn't think Stiles was in danger, then you wouldn't tell him how you felt," Scott explained, his voice small. Stiles had a point; they'd all been so caught up in getting him and Derek together that they hadn't thought about how it would affect Stiles—and Scott especially should have, he knew Stiles had panic attacks. "And Stiles wouldn't listen to anyone but you telling him."

"Scott," Stiles mumbled into Derek's jacket. "I love you like a brother, but you're a _fucking idiot_. Try sorting out your own goddamn mess of a love life instead of fiddling with mine."

Scott flushed. "Sorry," he muttered. 

Derek fixed each Beta with a firm look, pleased when they all turned their heads and bared their necks. "Next time, _if_ there is a next time, talk to me," he said finally.

There were numerous murmurs of agreement and apology from the Betas and the humans, and Stiles figured that it was the best he was going to get right now. Erica was visibly itching to get up and put her arms around him, and Stiles didn't need to look at Isaac or Scott to know they were doing the same, but everyone was thankfully keeping their distance. He felt jittery and like his skin was too tight; he definitely wasn't ready to let them touch him just yet.

"Okay," he sighed, pulling back to meet Derek's gaze. "I think I'm gonna go home now. I need to... hug my dad.”

Derek nodded, leveling the Betas with his gaze. "We'll talk later," he promised. "Training tomorrow, right after school."

Stiles let Derek walk him out, grateful for the comforting weight of his arm around his shoulders. He shrugged it off, though, once they reached his jeep, turning to face Derek while he leaned back against the driver's door. "Sooo, can you keep from killing them, or do you wanna come over?"

Derek pretended to think it over. "I can keep from killing them," he said slowly, "but I'd like to come with you."

Stiles grinned. "You should probably sneak in, though. I think I've had enough drama for tonight."

The first thing he did when he got home was go up to his room and open the window, but then, true to his word, he went to find his dad. The sheriff was reading in bed, and he gave Stiles a tired smile when he saw him. 

"Hey, kiddo. It's a little late, isn't it?"

Stiles honestly had no idea what time it was, but it was probably after midnight. He did his best to look shamefaced. "Sorry. Scott was having a mental break, you know how it is." It wasn't exactly a lie, either; Stiles was pleased with himself. He was even more pleased when the sheriff just nodded like he understood.

"Well, go and get some sleep. You might not have school tomorrow but you can't stay in bed all day."

Stiles rolled his eyes, like he knew he was supposed to. "I know, I know," he sighed. "Hey, come here." He opened his arms, and when the sheriff sat up, looking confused, he pulled him into a hug. "I love you, Dad."

The sheriff hugged back just as hard, for which Stiles was immeasurably grateful. "I love you too, son."

***

Derek was waiting for Stiles in his room, and he offered the teen a smile when he came in. "Hey. Better?"

"Much," Stiles confirmed, flopping down onto his bed with a sigh. He stared at the ceiling for a while before rolling his head on his shoulders to look at Derek. "Is it awful that, as much as I am _so_ mad at Scott and the others for doing what they did, I also think they were right? No way would we have gotten our shit straight if we hadn't been in that situation."

Derek sat down on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Stiles's stomach and absently rubbing circles. "Not really?" he answered. "I wouldn't have told you if I hadn't thought I'd lost you."

Stiles hummed and closed his eyes, letting himself relax beneath Derek's touch. "We're not telling them that we're grateful," he said decisively. "They deserve to feel guilty. But I am. Grateful. Sooo grateful. Especially if you keep doing that."

Derek smiled. "Agreed," he chuckled, scratching lightly as his hand circled.

"Are you gonna stay?" Stiles asked, cracking one eye open. "'Cause, you can. My dad won't bother us, and I think the bed's big enough."

Derek hesitated. "You sure?" he asked, his hand stilling.

"Yeah," Stiles answered, the extra _duh_ not spoken but heard by them both. He hesitated. "Aren't you?"

Derek nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. He quickly shucked his jacket and jeans, but left his shirt and boxer briefs on before looking at Stiles expectantly. "You going to sleep in those?"

"Hell no!" Stiles had been a little distracted by the sight of Derek taking off his clothes, but now he returned to himself just enough to shrug out of his jacket and kick his jeans off. Clothes summarily discarded somewhere over the side of the bed, he jumped under the covers and made expectant grabby hands at Derek. "Okay, come here. Now now now."

Derek grinned, sliding under the covers and pulling Stiles in close. "Hey," he murmured, giving in to his instinct to nuzzle along Stiles's jaw.

"Hey," Stiles breathed, sliding a hand into Derek's hair. "This is a wolfy thing, right? I think I like it."

Derek nodded. "Yeah, it's a wolf thing. Glad you like it," he murmured, feeling drowsiness beginning to overcome him. 

Stiles stifled a yawn as his eyes started to slip closed, the warmth of Derek beside him helping to relax him. "Me too," he mumbled, already well on his way to sleep.

*** 

Gradually, things got better. There was still some tension in the air, but Derek wasn't sure how to resolve it, because he wasn't sure what was causing it in the first place. 

He got his answer roughly a week after the fake kidnapping. 

"That's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard," Derek said, staring at Stiles. "No. No way. I'm not allying with Chris."

Stiles stared right back at Derek, shocked. "Okay," he said mildly, but his voice was quiet and small. "Just a thought."

"Well, keep them to yourself," Jackson sneered. "You may be screwing the boss, but that doesn't make you _pack_."

Stiles flinched. "I know that," he answered a little too quickly, his gaze flickering to Allison and Lydia. Were they pack? They looked sad, so maybe not. Or maybe they just felt sorry for him because they were and he wasn't. That would make sense. "I—I gotta go." Before anyone had time to react, Stiles got to his feet and hurried out to his jeep.

Derek stood, stunned, before snarling at Jackson and then chasing after Stiles. "Stiles, wait!" he called, grabbing the driver's door before Stiles could shut it. "Just—just wait, okay? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"It's fine," Stiles told him, knowing that Derek would hear the lie in the beat of his heart. He gave the door a futile tug. "I just have to go, okay? Go back inside. Your pack needs you."

"And you're part of the pack," Derek insisted, not letting go of the door. "You are, okay? Don't listen to Jackson; he's thick-headed. You've been pack for a while, we've all just been too stupid to realize it and tell you."

Stiles closed his eyes against the burning behind them. "Thank you," he whispered when he was able to open them again. "That means a lot." After two years of feeling completely isolated from his friends, it meant more than Derek could ever know.

Derek carefully reached into the car and Tugged Stiles into his arms. "We're all idiots," he murmured. "It's why the pack needs you; you keep us grounded, make us think." He kissed Stiles softly. "Still wanna leave?"

"No," Stiles admitted against Derek's lips. "But I do wish that good communication skills were better."

Derek smiled before kissing Stiles again. "We'll work on them," he promised. "C'mon."

Stiles gave Derek a small smile and got out of the car and followed him back inside. Screw Jackson. If Derek thought of him as pack, that was all Stiles needed.

***

Nobody made a comment when Derek and Stiles walked back in, their arms around each other, but Derek saw Allison and Lydia exchange happy smiles; Isaac and Erica exchanged smug ones. 

Derek made sure that when he wasn't sparring with one of the other members of the pack, he was with Stiles, touching him, scenting him, making sure he—and everyone else—knew that Stiles was _completely_ pack. The rest of the pack followed suit, touching Stiles as much as he would allow it, mingling their scents with Derek's. 

When training was finished for the day, Derek sat down, leaning against some cushions that had found their way into the station from various pack members' houses, before pulling Stiles down into his lap. "We really should find a better place for training," Derek mused. "Plus, I need a legitimate place to live in whenever your dad finds out about us. Hopefully counter the 'accused of murder' thing."

Stiles laughed and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck. "Nothing will ever counter the 'accused of murder' thing," he teased. "But not living in a train station might help. Besides, if you had an actual bed instead of a mattress on the floor? I'd be staying over a _lot_ more often."

Derek flushed, and cleared his throat embarrassedly. "Yeah, that sounds good," he muttered. 

Isaac snickered and flopped across Derek's legs, sidling up next to Stiles. "Aw, Daddy's embarrassed," he cooed. 

"Don't ever call me that again," Derek ordered, staring at Isaac in horror.

"Aw, I think it's cute" Erica laughed, appearing out of nowhere to tuck herself against Derek's side. The smile on her face was positively evil. "Besides, there's no need to be embarrassed. Mom isn't."

Stiles' jaw dropped. "Oh my God," he moaned, dismayed. "How long have you been calling us Mom and Dad? And why am I the mom?!"

"Since we started going to you for comfort," Scott supplied, settling against Derek's other side. "And you and Derek fell in love."

"I hate you all," Stiles said matter-of-factly, but he was smiling. It was only when Boyd was the next to join their little huddle that he started to get suspicious. "What is this?"

Boyd smirked. "Pack pile," he explained matter-of-factly as Allison, Lydia, and Jackson joined them.

"Pack pile," Stiles repeated dazedly, his grin returning full-force. "You know what that means, Jackson."

Jackson just snorted and shook his head. "Whatever. I'm not calling you Mom."

Stiles shuddered and hid his face in Derek's chest. "I never thought I'd see the day when Jackson was my favorite."

Derek snickered. "He does have _some_ redeeming qualities," he agreed. "I can't say the same for the rest of them, though."

"Eh, you love us anyway," Isaac said, shrugging and scooting closer to Stiles.

"You're right," Stiles agreed, putting an arm around Isaac. "I do. You guys are my family."

Derek smiled, putting one arm around Erica as he leaned forward to nuzzle Stiles. "Yes, we are. We're your pack."

Isaac and Erica exchanged smiles as the whole pack moved closer to their Alpha and his boyfriend. "Pack," they agreed. 

For the first time since the fire, with his new pack around him, and the man he loved in his lap, Derek was content.

 


End file.
